Day of Resolution
by Megawacky Max
Summary: Harry has turned age and now is ready to begin the mission requested by Dumbledore. But before that, he has a wedding to attend... and a personal resolution to take. LAST CHAPTER is up. Enjoy the unexpected.
1. Of freedom love and top secret missions

**–****o–**

**Harry Potter  
Day of Resolutions Written by Megawacky Max **

**–****o–**

**Author Notes:**

I finished reading "Half–Blood Prince" a week after my twenty–fourth birthday, and this idea crept into my mind twenty–four hours after that.

This story contains spoilers. Lots of spoilers. Don't adventure further if you haven't read the sixth book. You have been warned.

Special thanks to my beloved **Eve **for correcting my grammar.

–**o–**

**Day of Resolutions **

–**o–**

**Chapter One  
Of freedom, love, and top secret missions**

**T**here was a gentle sound breaking the oppressive silence in the dark bedroom in number four, Privet Drive. It was a gentle _tick–tock_ coming from the carefully repaired alarm clock on the night table next to the bed. Its hands read half to midnight.

The date was July 30th.

Harry Potter was busy. He was waiting.

He was staring through the window. The mist outside had grown thicker since the previous year. Dementors were breeding faster. They have been seen lurking nearby a couple of times. No… they have been _felt_ lurking nearby. After all, Muggles could not really see them. Oh, but they could feel them all the time now.

It was the first time in years that Harry's room looked so clean and tidy. There were no parchment pieces on the floor, or strange books with stranger contents. Even the bird cage on top of the locked trunk was empty. Harry had sent Hedwig ahead on her own. She knew the way better than he did.

A sideways glance caught the hands of the alarm clock. Twenty–five to midnight. Soon Harry would turn age. Soon he would be allowed to do magic without breaking the Ministry's rules. Soon he would be able to leave the Dursleys at will, and he was sure going to do it at once.

But still . . . Soon, too, the invisible protection that lay on the Dursley's house would also vanish. Harry wouldn't be protected any longer, there. Nor would any of the Dursleys.

Harry was surprised on how he suddenly worried of them. It was a fact he didn't like the Dursley, but not to the point of . . .

He shook his head, angry. Very well. He had almost twenty minutes left. It was now or never. He picked up the trunk and made sure not to let the bird cage fall. He went downstairs and left the trunk on the floor. A quick peek in the sitting room showed all three of the Dursleys sitting on the couch, watching a movie on TV.

Harry cleared his throat. Uncle Vernon, following natural commands, growled in warning. Harry stared at the wall clock: it was twenty to midnight. He cleared his throat again, louder.

"What?" grunted uncle Vernon, not taking his eyes off the TV.

"We need to talk," said Harry, loud and clear.

All three Dursleys turned their heads to the rather skinny teenager in the doorway. Harry had never been so direct.

"That's no way to speak to your—"

"I'm leaving," interrupted Harry.

There was a long, strange silence. Uncle Vernon wasn't prepared for it. Aunt Petunia wasn't prepared for it. Dudley wasn't prepared for it.

Nobody was prepared for it.

"What?" asked Uncle Vernon, sounding slightly surprised.

"I'm leaving the house. Forever," said Harry.

Vernon tried to recall if it was a prank of any kind. He hated pranks, especially when they aimed at him.

"What are you talking about?" he finally barked.

A quarter to midnight, read the clock . . .

"What you heard," said Harry, perhaps a bit colder than needed. "Congratulations. You've got your wish: I'm leaving forever."

Vernon tried to smile, but primitive instincts were denying it. He had to be sure.

"You better explain yourself," he said, although the answer came from Petunia instead.

"He's turning seventeen," she whispered. "He's turning seventeen tonight. The man . . . Remember that man, last year, that one, what was his name . . .?"

"That… _Dumber Lore_?" suggested Vernon without tact. "You freaks have those odd names . . ."

Harry tried not to yell a retort. Fine, he'd let Vernon have that one his way. It was pointless to argue ten minutes from freedom.

"_Dumbledore_", said Harry in a tight whisper. "He died some weeks ago. You probably don't care, and I don't care you don't. It's all the same. I'm leaving."

Dudley turned the TV off absent mindlessly. This was better than car chases and buildings on fire.

"Then it's true? You're leaving? It's not a joke?"

"I wouldn't stay here another minute," whispered Harry. "I've stayed only because Dumbledore told me so. Now," he added, knowing he had to say it, "there is something I'd like to say, before I leave."

"Sure, sure . . ." Vernon said in a hasty manner. He was beginning to realize the facts.

"I don't know how much you will care, but I won't feel good leaving without a warning: you should remember, Dumbledore commented last year about Lord Voldemort returning to power. You surely noticed an increase in the . . . er . . . _accidents_ throughout the country, yes?"

Even Dudley nodded; the TV and the papers were flooded with people having strange accidents in all sorts of improbable ways. Not to mention the dozens of disappearances and murders. The streets were no longer safe, or at least that's what Petunia said those days.

"Voldemort's work," said Harry. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Don't worry if you don't understand. What you must understand is, however, that we were safe from those people in this house, thanks to the protections cast by Dumbledore some years ago. Well . . . Tonight, the second I'm of age, they'll be cut off."

Vernon stood still, so did Dudley. Only Petunia, whose sister had been a witch and therefore she had a vague idea of the Wizard World, gave a little whimper.

Five to midnight . . .

Harry turned and walked to the bottom of the stairs, where his trunk and bird cage waited. He checked that everything was in order: his luggage was there, so was his wand, and his Invisible Cloak was neatly folded in his jeans' pocket.

There was a rushing sound behind, and when Harry turned to see he saw all three Dursleys standing on the doorframe, staring at him.

"What do you mean by _we're unprotected_?" asked Vernon.

Harry detected a glimpse of true worry in his voice. He couldn't help smiling.

"As unprotected as everybody else, actually."

The primitive side of Vernon gave a little shudder, and for the first time in his existence was unleashed.

"And you are _leaving_?" he said, his voice vaguely trembling. "You're leaving us alone, _unprotected_?"

"Exactly what you always wished," smiled Harry.

"But—"

"What, you're considering magic after so long?" attacked Harry.

"I—"

"Well?"

And Vernon thought, very much to his regret, _What if there's something else I could have known, and decided not to?_

"If you ever need help," Harry said, slipping his hand in his pocket, "you may as well use this." He tossed a large golden Galleon to his uncle, whose hand snatched it in mid–air, despite his attempts not to do so. "Don't sell it, please. Just keep it safe and rub it five times with your thumb. I have another one and I'll be warned."

The wall clock at the sitting room gonged. Midnight had arrived.

"Well," whispered Harry, "it is time, at last. _I am free_."

He gave the Dursleys a last, longing glance. Vernon still had the Galleon coin in his large fist.

"Goodbye, then, and thanks for everything."

Harry smiled a bit wider. He grabbed his trunk and bird cage and thought on his Destination. With a turn, he vanished from sight, away from Privet Drive . . . Away from the Dursleys.

–**o–**

**T**here was a snapping sound. Harry tried not to stumble as he regained balance. He certainly preferred brooms than this, but it was the quickest way. He had Apparated precisely where he expected.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

He had refused to go straight to the Burrow. He didn't want to arrive too late in the night, nor did he want to stay with the Dursleys more than needed. So there was only left one place to go: Sirius' home.

No . . . It was now Harry's.

The idea was still a bit shocking. Harry owned that house, now. He had his own place to drop by and live. It was not the best place (he would have chosen the Burrow any day), but it was his and that was good enough. He recalled he had refused to own it at first, but Sirius had wanted Harry to use the place. He would honor his godfather's wish.

He recalled he had given it to the Order of the Phoenix. Would they be there? After all, Dumbledore was – Harry didn't really want to think about that.

He approached and knocked on the – _his_ – front door experimentally. After a few seconds a surprised voice at the other side shouted:

"_Who is it?_"

Obviously, nobody expected a visitor in that house. It had been made Unplottable. Harry smiled.

"Harry Potter," he announced.

"Harry? Dear Lord — _No, wait!_ I need to check that out. Let's see… Ah, this will do… No, wait, I better—"

"Is this really necessary, Tonks?" asked Harry.

The voice on the other side paused. "What are you doing here, anyway? You are supposed to stay with your uncle and—"

"Tonks, please!" snapped Harry: "I've been living with the Dursleys for sixteen long years! The protection Dumbledore set upon the house has vanished minutes ago when I turned of age! I just Apparated here because I thought perhaps some members of the Order of the Phoenix were still gathering! I needed a place to stay until Bill and Fleur's wedding—"

The door unlocked and a young witch with bubble–gum pink hair stepped through the doorframe.

"That'd be enough information. Wotcher, Harry."

She smiled, so did Harry.

The house was darker than Harry recalled. It has been a whole year since he last visited, and by then the Weasleys and Hermione Granger had cleaned up part of it. Now it seemed as if the place had collapsed. There were cobwebs everywhere and stains of humidity. The dust on the floor, knick–knacks, and furniture seemed to be weeks old, now. Tonks locked the entrance and guided Harry along the hall.

"What happened? I mean, after . . . that day . . . You know."

"I do," nodded Tonks, and her smile faded. "Things have changed a lot in these few weeks. The attacks have increased. You surely read the _Prophet_, yes?"

"Indeed. Any news from Snape or Malfoy?"

Tonks meditated on the answer. She knew how Harry felt upon that specific topic.

"No," she said. "Really, nothing."

Harry didn't push it. Instead he said, "What happened to the Order?"

"Ah, the Order . . ." Tonks exhaled a long, sad sigh. "It's getting difficult to keep us together. Minerva McGonagall is now our leader, but I don't really think she approves it. One thing is to become Headmistress of Hogwarts, but to turn into the leader of a troop against You–Kno—"

"What happened to Hogwarts?" Harry interrupted. It had been one of the main questions in his mind for ages.

"Hogwarts," said Tonks, slowly, "won't open its doors, this year."

Nobody said anything. There was no need. Harry broke the silence.

"Right. You were telling me about the Order?"

"Yes, yes. The Order. Well, Mundungus is in Azkaban, as you know."

"For stealing, I hope," retorted Harry, frowning slightly. Mundungus Fletcher had been selling possessions of the Black house.

"I know you are upset. Mundungus wasn't a great aid, but, well, Dumbledore trusted him — _I didn't mean to say that!_"

But she panicked in vain. In any other situation Harry would have snapped and said something like _'Dumbledore also trusted Snape, and there you have it, killed by him!'_ Ever since Dumbledore was gone, Harry had felt more mature. He had been forced to, since now he remained nearly alone in the quest ahead of him.

Nobody knew of his quest. Of his mission. Nobody except a few. Harry would have to defeat Voldemort, but first he would have to find and destroy the remains of the man's shattered soul – the Horcruxes.

"No worries, Tonks . . . I won't snap," whispered Harry.

They reached the kitchen. A man sitting at the table jumped off his chair when seeing the newcomer.

"_Harry!_" yelped Lupin. Harry could notice he looked much better. It seemed he had even managed to put finally on some weight.

Lupin crossed the room in a few large steps and hugged Harry.

"What are you doing here?"

"Don't start it up, please. I turned age and decided to move on away from the Dursleys," Harry commented with no pity.

"Oh, right, right . . ." said Lupin, then smiled a bit. "Well, in that case, welcome to the new life. Welcome to Grimmauld Place!"

"Is anybody else from the Order here?" asked Harry as he and Lupin had a seat. Harry noticed Tonks had moved to the stoves.

"Only us and Dedalus Diggle. He's sleeping on the second floor. So, tell me, how are you?" he added, now serious. "I mean, how are you feeling?"

Harry knew what Lupin meant.

"I'm fine. It feels very odd to have lost him."

"A great loss," nodded Lupin. "The Order almost broke up in that moment. McGonagall is working hard to keep us united, but . . . I fear she is weakening."

"How do you mean?"

"She's shattered, poor thing. Dumbledore dead, you know."

"Yes, Tonks did tell me something about that in the hall."

They glanced at Tonks. Harry noticed she was cooking. He hadn't registered the slight smell of fried eggs until that moment.

"You cook?" he asked. Tonks half–turned and smiled.

"Not the greatest chef in the world, I know that, but good enough to avoid famine," she claimed.

"Oh, so, you two are . . . sort of living together?" Harry asked without thinking.

"That doesn't mean anything!" said Lupin all of the sudden. Harry turned his head toward him, though he could hear a rather sympathetic giggle from behind him. "I mean it!" the man resumed. "I already told you—"

"You are a big liar, Remus," Tonks' voice floated past them. "Don't pay any attention, Harry, he's like that when a third person is around."

Harry couldn't help but feel happy for them. Of course, Lupin grimaced and turned his back on her, but Harry felt that had not exactly been a sign of denial. Harry knew of denial in these matters, because he had also denied his feelings toward—

He had just recalled Ginny Weasley.

The smile dropped from his face. He hadn't forgotten her and, whenever her face appeared in Harry's mind, his feelings went dark and sad. And he would have to see her in a few weeks. All because of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Harry struggled to think of something else. He certainly didn't hate Ginny, and that's why all those feelings surrounded him as he thought of her. He truly loved her. All the time she had been there, around, and now he himself had denied her presence. For Ginny's sake, mainly. If Voldemort just managed to imagine how important she was to Harry . . . No, Ginny had to be part of his past, and perhaps a future. Perhaps, after Voldemort's destruction…

It was a hope. One of the few hopes in Harry's view of things.

Harry went to bed that night after trying Tonk's eggs, which reminded him of something out of Hagrid's recipe book. The extra salt she had accidentally knocked into the mixture hadn't helped. He delayed sleeping in order to and stop thinking of Ginny. But it was a lost battle from the very beginning. She would never leave is mind. Never…

_Never_…

–**o–**

**I**t had been an interesting week at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry got used to calling the house his, despite the horrible portrait of Sirius' mother opining to the contrary. Along came several members of the Order after someone – either Tonks or Lupin – sent news of the new arrival.

On the very first day it was clear to Harry why there was hardly anyone in the place.

"_Potter!_" yelled a most annoyed Minerva McGonagall. "How . . . When . . . What are you doing here? Are you insane?"

That wasn't, Harry thought, the best welcome available.

"I don't see why not, Professor," he said, honest. "Sirius left number twe —"

"Yes, yes, he did, but what in Merlin's name are you doing here! Have you lost your common sense?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, now a bit offended.

He noticed McGonagall hesitated on replying. "Snape," she said at last. "As a former member of the Order, he had been allowed in here. Even if the house remains Unplottable, he could walk in perfectly."

Harry's eyes widened. In all his rush leaving the Dursleys he had forgotten Snape had been in the house in the past. What if, instead of Tonks, the door had been opened by a tall and greasy–haired traitor?

"Potter, I am very disappointed! I thought you could have a little respect for Dumbledore! He always commented to me you would be a great person and the first thing you do is leave your relatives — no matter how bad they are — and Apparate in front of what could have been a trap!"

Harry felt like trash for the rest of that day, especially after McGonagall mentioned Dumbledore. Her eyes behind those square glasses had watered at the mention of the departed one. Harry felt like a complete moron.

He was then allowed to stay for as long as he desired, provided someone else was in the house that was able to use _'adult behavior'_. Harry couldn't help but smile when Tonks was allowed in that selected group. Aside from that, though, he didn't smile at all during the few meetings the Order had during the week, where the different members shared pieces of information on Death Eaters and planned a defense.

The problem was that something was missing. It could be felt from a long distance away. Dumbledore was an excellent leader, always calm and thoughtful; he always seemed to have the answer to the problem, even if the answer would have included waiting for more news. McGonagall didn't have that success, and from time to time Harry felt she didn't really know what to do.

And there were reasons. Only Dumbledore and Harry knew what to do, and it was the ultimate secret Harry promised to keep. Nobody in the Order had ever heard of the Horcruxes Voldemort created by splitting his soul and containing the fragments inside objects outside the body, or Harry's secret mission to destroy them. He would just stay for a couple of extra days and move to the Burrow, where he would assist in Bill's wedding and then . . . depart on his journey.

He had been told Hogwarts would be closed by order of the Ministry of Magic. The invasion of Death Eaters within the school walls was a very low blow on Hogwarts' reputation . . . Now the education had been denied to the young wizards and witches of the country. He thought on Hermione Granger and felt really sad for her. She was only one year from her N.E.W.T. examinations, something she was surely looking forward to.

But Harry thought it was the most sensible thing to do. Now that Hogwarts was closed he could explore the world in his search, and then . . . Voldemort. School could wait, especially if there was no Harry Potter by then, a nasty thought no matter what.

Minerva McGonagall, Alastor _'Mad–Eye'_ Moody, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin were all gathered at the kitchen of the house on that eventful morning. Harry walked in the room after an uneasy night of bad dreams.

"Morning, Harry," yawned Tonks, then aimed her wand to the stoves and resumed breakfast.

"Morning," he nodded in reply.

"Potter, you'll be leaving to the Burrow today, right?" said Moody, his magical blue eye moving from here to there.

"Yes. I'll stay there until Bill and Fleur's wedding. That'll be some event."

He had a seat next to Lupin. Tonks placed a dish with crispy fried sausages and slightly blackened toast in front of him, but Harry had caught McGonagall's scowling eyes.

"Potter, we would like to . . ." she interrupted herself, then resumed. "We would like to talk with you."

"Er . . . Yes?"

"You'll be visiting the Weasleys, I understand that, but we were wondering what would become of you after the wedding."

Harry didn't need to look up to see everybody's eyes, including Moody's magical one, land on him.

"How do you mean, Profe—"

"Save the _'Professor'_ for when Hogwarts opens again," snapped McGonagall with a noticeable wince. "Examining Dumbledore's personal files last night I ran across _this_ . . ."

She held up a large, white envelope. It had the Hogwarts emblem printed on a large blot of purple wax that had sealed it. Now, however now the seal was cracked open. He took the envelope and turned it. There were words on the back in the recognizable style of Albus Dumbledore:

_To:  
The Order of the Phoenix  
(To be opened in times of crisis)_

Harry moved his sight from the envelope to McGonagall's. She looked half–irked, half–sad.

"It cannot be more of a 'time of crisis' than now, so . . ." she claimed, now gesturing Harry to investigate inside. Harry did so and produced a series of letters and hand–marked maps. Dumbledore's calligraphy greeted the group from the paper.

_To the Order of the Phoenix:_

_This envelope has been charmed under a _Testamentary Spell_, so it would only be readable after my death. Therefore, it is my sad duty through this to inform you that I am no longer with the living.  
It is my last wish to inform you about my latest research related to the subject of Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter, and the Order itself._

Harry swallowed, but resumed reading without looking to any of the people surrounding him.

_This letter was written after having completed my suspicions on Voldemort's behavior thanks, in great deal, to the help provided by Harry James Potter. I fear, however, that my stay in this world shall not last much longer now,the reason why I am now taking notes that might, I hope, help the remaining members of the Order in our mission of defeating Voldemort, hopefully for once and for all.  
The first thing that must be pointed out is the matter regarding the way Lord Voldemort has been keeping himself alive, after a fashion, even after…_

Harry's eyes traveled the manuscript with a mix of feeling. There Dumbledore explained the concept of Horcruxes and their function. The text followed with a brief revision of some of the memories visualized by both Harry and Dumbledore in the latter's Pensive.

Finally, the text moved to a second topic:

_I ask the Order of the Phoenix for its full support on Harry Potter's doings, since he still has one task trusted by me. I wish on my Will that he is informed of Death Eater sightings, as well as receiving help the moment he so asks for it. By this point some of you may have guessed his remaining task, but don't stop him. Instead, enlighten his path with guidance and support.  
Along with this letter I have included marked maps and random annotations from my previous investigations on the whereabouts of the remaining Horcruxes. These places I discovered may or may not, contain strong magical defenses.  
I also ask on my Will for you to remain together and fight this one last battle. Give Harry the best weapons he can receive; the same weapons you gave him and thousands of other students back at Hogwarts: education, comprehension, and love._

_With my best regards, yours truly (and, too, on my Will)_...  
Albus Dumbledore

Harry observed that last line, that signature, for a long time. He felt his eyes burn. Finally, he risked a glance and met with McGonagall. There was no more anger there.

"You better eat your breakfast, Harry," Tonks whispered. "Because you'll hate us for having you going that long way on an empty stomach . . ."

–**o–**

**H**arry had never seen McGonagall in such a mood. She was perhaps sadder than on the night Dumbledore died. So Harry had no choice but to tell his experiences with the Pensive to the rest of the Order.

At least now he had a whole team supporting his journey. For a fraction of second he thought himself as the moral leader of the Order of the Phoenix. An unnamed leader. A leader brought by circumstances. Not as much of a leader, really, but the only one with more relevant information of the main mission, which was almost the same.

"I almost forgot," said Harry before stepping out of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He turned to Lupin and handed him a large golden Galleon. "I gave the Dursleys one Communication Coin. Hermione sent me a few in case . . . in case something happened. I told them to use it if there was an attack. Could you help them for me if that ever happens?"

"Sure thing, Harry," promised Lupin, taking the Galleon and storing it in his pocket.

The morning was clean, although the mist was still visible. An owl carrying news from the Burrow came the day after, indicating Harry was expected the morning of the following day.

"Will you Apparate?" asked Moody, his normal eye fixed on Harry, his magical one spinning wildly.

"It's the faster way," he murmured.

"Right, now," said McGonagall, "tell Molly Weasley we shall arrive either the day before the wedding or the day of the wedding itself. Here's our list of personal questions, just in the event we get impersonated by Death Eaters. And don't give me that harsh look, Potter! The security is vital."

Harry sighed and nodded. He accepted the list of questions and answers and stored it in his jeans' pocket.

"Tonks will go with you," said McGonagall next. "In case you Apparate somewhere else. I believe you haven't got your License, yet . . ." she added in a disapproving tone.

"Very well. Then I shall . . . We shall, I mean, depart."

There was a slight hesitation in McGonagall's attitude, then she let it go in a more maternal tone, which was very strange for her.

"Now take care, Potter. As far we are concerned, you are probably our last hope." And she hastily added, in a normal, cutting tone: "So don't go around showing yourself so you can be jinxed by any passing Death Eater!"

Harry had to smile. "I won't, I promise."

"Let's go, Harry!" Tonks encouraged, grabbing him by his arm. "At the count of three, okay?"

"Yes, okay. Goodbye, everyone!" Harry waved to the rest of the present ones.

"One…" said Tonks.

"… Two…" followed Harry.

"… _THREE!_" they both said and, with a new turn, were gone.

There it was . . . that nasty feeling of stretchiness . . . just before Harry felt himself running out of breath a snapping sound brought fresh countryside air to his lungs. The Burrow, at last.

"Harry, Harry!" claimed a voice from behind. Tonks released his arm just when a brown, blurry figure landed on Harry and embraced him in a choking hug. "We were so worried! We went to your uncle's house and they said you had gone! It was a good thing Professor Lupin owled the next!"

Harry managed to get away from Hermione's arms and stumbled back. When he looked up at the sky a freckled face smiled down at him.

"Welcome back, mate," said Ron. "Rushing away from the Muggles, I guess?"

Harry was escorted toward the house of the Weasley family, a very strange edification whose only possible explanation for its toweresque architecture was good old plain magic. As soon as he put a foot in the kitchen Mrs. Weasley turned from the breakfast dishes she was washing with the use of her wand and hurried toward Harry, giving him his second and entirely unnecessary spine–cracking hug in less than five minutes.

Even though Harry had already had breakfast, Mrs. Weasley insisted on him taking some more. He sat at the table and Ron and Hermione sat at their sides. Tonks excused herself and went out to patrol a bit.

"Good Lord, Harry, you had us so—!"

"—worried, I know," Harry finished it for her. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. I'm seventeen, now."

"That's no excuse," she said, sounding just a little annoyed. "So did Ron, and he hadn't Apparated so many miles away from his home. Disapparating and Apparating back at Grimmauld Place!"

"What's so wrong about that?" asked Harry as Mrs. Weasley brought a dish with a nice, hot meal.

"Are you serious?" Hermione spoke first. "You could have… Well… Probably died."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Just for Apparating so far?"

"Of course! Harry, the first rule of Apparating is Destination, don't you remember? You have to concentrate on your Destination, and if you don't remember it properly you could have Apparated anywhere at all! Probably in several places at the same time! Talk about extreme Splinching!"

Harry shuddered.

"I didn't have problems Apparating back at Hogwarts when—"

"That was totally different! You knew Hogwarts so well that there was little chance you couldn't focus on your Destination. And the situation was so abrupt you had your Determination and Deliberation! No matter what you—"

But Harry's focus on Hermione's lecture had momentary faded away. His nose had detected, past the tasty sausages in his breakfast dish, a flowery smell. He jerked his head back, but Ginny had just left the room.

"—say, what you did was actually imprudent and — What's with you? Harry?"

Harry returned to reality.

"Oi! I mean . . . Oh . . . Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

He caught the expression of his friends and urged for a topic.

"So, where's everybody else?" he asked. "Fleur? Bill?"

Ron snatched a bit of sausage from Harry's dish. "Oh, Bill is visiting Fleur's family," he said. "They're returning in a couple of days. Fred and George are still working hard on their passion. I did shout at them for those Peruvian Darkness Powders, though."

"First time they don't laugh at him," murmured Hermione. "When they knew what the use of their jokes led to . . ."

"_'Oh, come on, now! That couldn't have possibly ever happened!'_", Ron mimicked. "_'Dumbledore can't be dead; that was an awful joke!'_", he finished with a soft, dark laugh. "You should have seen their faces after we convinced them. They even thought the issue of the Prophet after the burial was a well–manufactured prank."

"I can imagine," said Harry, swallowing the last bits of food. "How are they, now?"

"Sad," whispered Hermione.

"They've closed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," added Ron.

"No!" yelped Harry.

"Not for good, Harry. They are inventorying their stock, trying to figure out how to prevent people from using it for really bad stuff. So far they managed to add a couple of special ingredients to their Love Potions so they would be detected by Secrecy Sensors," Ron explained.

"I see. And, how about Charlie?"

"Oh, Charlie's coming to the wedding, yes. He hinted something about a show for it, or something. He can't probably mean he'll bring a pack of dragons for a flight demonstration," Ron chuckled, only it didn't hide his uneasiness.

"What about Percy, then?"

"Don't ask," murmured Ron, looking away. "That prat hasn't been seen since Christmas. Mum sent him an invitation, of course . . . Only he returned it without even opening the envelope."

Harry nodded as he thought how would have Mrs. Weasley taken it. Not good in any case, he knew.

Later on, Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley for the breakfast and remembered to hand her the list McGonagall had provided him. Mrs. Weasley thanked Harry and then the trio climbed up to Ron's attic bedroom.

"You'll be sleeping with me. The house will receive guests soon," Ron explained. "Some relatives, see. I think dad will have to conjure an extra house, or something. Can't imagine where we're going to lodge so many people, even if it's only for one night . . ."

Harry only half–heard what his friend was saying. When walking past Ginny's bedroom door he could swear it had just closed behind him. There was a new whiff of flowers.

"How . . . how's Ginny?" Harry asked, mostly without thinking. He noticed Ron had suddenly gone silent and Hermione didn't reply.

"She's fine," Ron finally said. "Normal as always. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," he excused himself, though it was obvious his friends didn't believe it. Thankfully they neither pushed it further.

Once at Ron's bedroom, Harry was greeted by a beautiful white owl who had just perched on the windowsill.

"She arrived last night," said Ron as Harry greeted Hedwig back with a gentle rub on her head. In turn, the owl nibbled at his fingers.

"Very well, Hedwig . . . I'm also happy to see you . . ." Harry smiled, letting Hedwig fly back to the other end of the room, where a smaller, far more hyperactive little owl by the name of Pigwidgeon was fluttering and jumping in pure joy within the bars of his cage.

Having closed the bedroom door, Harry and his friend began to talk more seriously, especially on the matter of Harry's mission. Harry told his friends about Dumbledore's last will and how he was going to get aid from the Order. This eased some of Hermione's notorious worries on the subject, but didn't change her mind: she was still resolved to accompany Harry in his trip, so was Ron.

"Mum is going to kill me," he smirked. "I mean it. She'll kill me. She will scream, she will yell, she will threaten me with her wand, and then she will just _kill_ me."

"She doesn't know—"

"—not a single word of it," Ron finished Harry's sentence, nodding miserably. "No one really knew; if we come to that. None of the Order, and if it wasn't for Dumbledore's letter—"

"My parents don't know of my plans, neither," said Hermione, her cheeks softly flushing. "I found it really difficult to talk to them about . . . this world and . . . and its war."

She turned her head to the window, apparently lost in a thought. Harry and Ron often forgot Hermione was Muggle–born and her parents probably knew close to nothing of actual workings of the Wizard World.

"I don't think they believed me, actually," she resumed, speaking softly. "They were quite stunned when I finally drew my wand and began to do magic. They have never seen that before, with the Restrictions and all, but now . . . Well, that was it, they finally really knew what was I talking about. _Magic_. I can still see their faces. Mum was even a bit terrified when I made her ceramic turtle move, but they're calmer, now."

Harry could see the hint of a teardrop appearing in her eye.

"They think I'll go to Hogwarts after my stay here. I wanted to explain how bad things are around here, but . . ." she sighed, ". . . a lie seemed much better, then. They don't know what I'll be doing, nor for how long."

Ron cleared his throat loud enough for making Hermione return from her inner world.

"How long you figure we'll need before finding all those Horcruxes?" he asked Harry.

"Less than I thought at first," he admitted. "Dumbledore left marked maps with possible locations. I've been examining them. Voldemort deliberately spread his soul all over the country. None of them seem to have been placed in foreign lands. I just don't know how we'll get to some of them," he added, now in a concerned tone. "There a few in mountains or deep valleys."

"There will be ways," said Hermione. "There're always ways."

They nodded, though mournfully.

–**o–**

**M**idnight came, accompanied by the attic ghoul's moans and Harry Potter's insomnia. The day had turned out very good: his friends were safe and Lupin had joined the party after lunch, probably because Tonks had asked him to. But still, something was troubling Harry.

Ginny had barely spoken to him. During both lunch and dinner. It was a dumb, difficult dialogue, he had to admit.

"Ginny, hello," he had said.

"Hello, Harry," she had replied.

And that had been all.

Harry couldn't sleep. He had a strange feeling. Just like the time he had drank the Felix Felicis, his mind was telling him he had to do something before sleeping properly. Somehow, his mind was telling him to go downstairs.

Harry got out of bed and carefully wrapped himself under his Invisible Cloak, he didn't really know why, probably just instinct. Invisible now, he climbed down the stairs to the kitchen of the house, stopping suddenly at the bottom of the stairs.

There was Ginny.

She was sitting at the kitchen table; her head resting on her curled arm, next to a straw basket with yarn balls and knitting needles. There was a pair of wool socks Mrs. Weasley had been working on, that day. Ginny's other hand was tickling Arnold the Pygmy Puff with an index finger. The little fluffy ball seemed to chirp with each tickle.

He approached slowly. He wanted to see her face. Once in front of her, Harry saw she was wearing a serious expression.

"Couldn't sleep, Harry?" she suddenly whispered. Harry managed to suppress a gasp of surprise. "Neither could I. Have a seat, if you wish."

Harry didn't move. Arnold got hold of Ginny's finger and attached its long tongue to it while her owner flicked it.

"Harry, I've grown up with Fred and George as brothers. Believe me, I _know_ when I'm being stalked," she said.

The was a sigh and the chair in front of Ginny moved backwards. After a moment Harry removed the cloak.

"So, how have you been?" she said, her eyes fixed on Arnold.

"I . . . er . . . Just normal," he said.

"Liar," she whispered. There was a very vague hint of a smile, but it vanished after one second.

"Fine, so I wasn't as keen as I would have hoped," said Harry, perhaps a bit harder than he should. "What with Dumbledore's death and everything. And the thought of Voldemort knowing and . . ."

He dragged the last syllables quieter as he noticed her face. Her eyes were shining.

"Ginny—?"

"_You know_, you shouldn't be talking to me in the middle of the night if we were supposed not to be together again," she said.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it almost immediately. Ginny went on, now in a choked tone.

"I know you came because of Bill's wedding. Well, I can understand that and I am truly glad you can share our family moments with us. I just — It's not like — Whatever you were thinking—"

She sank her head flat on her curled arm. Arnold released its owner's finger as she clenched her hand in a tight fist. The Pygmy Puff cheeped in worry and approached Ginny's fallen hair on the table, where it curled up and gave a new, sad chirp.

Harry looked down at her. The girl who hadn't cried when he explained they couldn't be together anymore. She had resisted until this day. It surely was a fierce battle. Harry stared at her closed fist halfway the wooden table. He suddenly recalled a similar situation he once faced, and this time he decided to do things right.

Ginny felt something warm squeezing her closed fist. A pair of watery eyes rose from her arm and followed the length of the sleeve. Her fist was now covered with a slightly larger hand.

She looked up at Harry Potter.

"I also thought a lot about you," he confessed.

Arnold the Pygmy Puff had just closed its tiny, black eyes. Curled up against its owner's hairs it had begun to snooze with a peculiar high–pitched purring which was the audible equivalent of big, wide, sad puppy eyes. A second later the noise became a surprised squeak when its comfortable cushion of red hair rudely vanished. When it looked up, Arnold saw its owner and that other person standing together. And, still annoyed with her a bit, Arnold moved towards one of the wool socks and squirmed in to doze some more.

Neither Harry nor Ginny noticed. They were quite busy together.

The following morning Harry awoke late for breakfast, despite he had been called several times. He wasn't feeling good, but neither bad. He felt good whenever he reminded of Ginny, but also felt bad due to the same reason. If he could only make sure she was totally safe . . . If he could do something to protect her from any harm . . .

Of course, he had to finish Voldemort, that's what he had to do. The best way to keep her safe. But in the meantime a long journey and a fight to death awaited, and however Harry sometimes felt confident he also felt he was risking too much. Not only would he take part in this mission, but so would the Order, but also Ron and Hermione. There would be no way of leaving them behind. And if he ever did so they would find a way to catch up with him. Hermione was smart and brilliant and Ron . . . _well_, Ron had Hermione, who was smart and brilliant and wouldn't try to hit any Death Eaters on sight.

It was one of those mornings when Harry worried about the people around him. Every one of them was a possible target, an imminent victim; and what was worse, a bait candidate. He knew how Voldemort operated. He would attack him through his weaknesses. He had achieved it twice already with Ginny and – Harry shuddered – Sirius.

Still, he feared something else. Knowing his friends the way Harry knew he knew them, there was the horrible nightmare in which any one of them said to him _'Run and save your life! I am not important! Just run and save yourself!'_ It was scary mainly because it would be perfectly true.

The door of the bedroom quietly opened. Harry turned his head toward it and saw Ginny carrying a tray. She smiled.

"Breakfast," she whispered. "Mum would have hexed herself if you didn't eat something."

She approached as Harry sat on the bed. The tray was laid on his knees. Ginny brought a chair and sat on it, very close to Harry.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Good. Mum had a big scare, this morning. She slipped a wool sock on her foot and my Pygmy Puff was inside. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah. And Ron and Hermione?"

"Outside," she said, a strange tone in her voice. "They're rather fine alone, don't you think?"

He caught the glimpse of a smile in her face.

"Yes. Almost like you and me. Ginny, about last night—"

"I already told you what I think," she stated, sounding firm.

"Yes, well, the thing is—"

"And I don't regret it. I won't regret it. Never."

Harry thought he had lost the initiative. He sighed and began to eat. Ginny wasn't taking her eyes — or her smile — away from him. After a brief and somewhat uneasy breakfast, Harry decided to try again.

"You will regret it," he said. "You will. Or what's worse, _I_ will. I don't want to lose you."

"It won't be better the way you propose. But if I go with you, however—"

_WHAM!_ The bedroom door flung open and Fred and George leapt in. It was, Harry thought, a worked–out surprise entrance.

The twins where the surprised ones, though.

"Harry! We thought you—" Fred said, then gasped. Both he and his brother George had just spotted Ginny.

"_The rumors were true!_" George yelped, clasping his hands on his cheeks in a rather over–acted way.

"We didn't believe Ron at first—", said Fred.

"—but here's the evidence!" said George.

"Our little sister Ginny—", said Fred.

"—and our great friend and financial loaner Harry—" said George.

"—_TOGETHER!_" they both said, and, in complete synch, spun melodramatically and fell on their backs. Wands were placed on their chests and magically produced mourning flowers from them.

Harry and Ginny laughed.

"You had your fun?" he said. "Can I jinx you now?"

"More respect to the deceased ones, Harry," murmured Fred in a deep, grave voice.

"Yeah, you gave us a deadly surprise," George went on, imitating Fred's dark tone.

"When did you lot arrive, anyway?" said Ginny.

"Just now," Fred got to his feet in one jump, so did George. "We locked Weasley's Wizard Wheezes until we return. We'll only be selling our improved merchandise. Can't believe we actually sold Peruvian Darkness Powders to that prat . . ."

"Those powders may have saved the lives of several people," recalled Harry, now serious. "It may have stopped our friends from attacking Death Eaters, but it did the same to the Death Eaters."

"What a positive perspective!" smiled Fred.

"You've made our day, Harry. And since you seem to be in such fair company—" George winked at they "—we will leave now. Oh, just wait until mum finds out…"

"Hey, keep it quiet!" Ginny squawked, but the twins had chosen that moment to Disapparate.

"Well, there goes the secret," murmured Harry, though smiling.

"It wouldn't have lasted, would it?" Ginny also smiled.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then their smiles slowly faded. The topic previously in discussion had emerged once more.

"Ginny—"

"No," she said, knowing what was coming. "I'm not moving."

"But your mother—"

"Have I ever said it'd be an easy thing to do? Harry, _please_ . . ."

Harry laughed, though it was short and somber. "There's no way to change your mind, is there?"

"No," Ginny said, the smile resurging within her face. "We both know how to be stubborn."

Harry tried not to smile, but it won. He didn't want her to do it, but . . . truly, deep down inside, he secretly hoped she—

_Aw, what the hell . . ._

"I think I have an owl to send," said Harry. Before he could understand how it happened, the breakfast tray had been carefully placed on the floor, and now two teenagers were hugging and kissing with no remorse.

–**o–**

(To Be Continued. . .)


	2. Regrettable regrets

–**o–**

**Chapter Two  
Regrettable regrets**

**M**rs. Weasley didn't show any idea that she had found out about Harry and Ginny's feelings for each other. If the twins ever told her anything she was keen on not reacting. There was, though, a new and radiant smile whenever she spotted the couple together.

The planning for the wedding had reached a tense breakpoint. They had crossed what the twins had cheerfully named _'the Point of No Return'_, meaning now there was nothing Molly could possibly do to postpone the event and now it all depended on either Bill or Fleur's decision on whether the wedding was going to be ruined. Sometimes Harry wondered if Mrs. Weasley was hoping Fred and George would do something at the wedding. In spite of she and Fleur's reconciliation in the hospital wing, there seemed to be hints of reborn conflicts and whispered opinions, none of them seen nor heard during Harry's stay, but only because Fleur was away.

Harry had his own thoughts. Ron and Hermione caught him sending Hedwig off when nobody was supposed to be watching him.

"To the Order," Harry excused himself. "I don't know if Mrs. Weasley knows of Dumbledore's letter, so . . . I thought I'd just send this in secret."

It happened to be a very good excuse, since Molly still didn't know the current facts. It brought Ron a new wave of concern at the thought of him departing in the search of the missing Horcruxes.

"How in blazes I am going to tell her . . .?" he often said. Harry noticed both Ron and Hermione spent a lot of time together, thinking up methods and ideas for their escape. On the bright side, that gave Harry and Ginny a lot of time for themselves.

They were helping Mrs. Weasley with some arrangements and decoration options. Harry thought that in all his years of magic, especially after having fought the Dark Arts so many times, the last he was expecting to come from his wand was a series of multi–colored paper streamers. Mrs. Weasley had found a collection of Wedding Wizardly charms in an old issue of _Witch Weekly_ and was hoping to moderate it for silver–white instead of multi–colored.

"_Cintas!_" she said. A long, extended paper streamer shot from her wand. It was blue and red.

"_Cintas!_" Harry gave it a try. His streamers were red and golden, the colors he was fond of.

Fred and George were laughing hard, so was Ginny.

"I'd pay to see Fleur's face if she ever steps into a multi–colored wedding party," said George.

"That gives me an idea, brother!" said Fred. "How 'bout some sort of _Paper Panic Prank_, like, a little candy box that hurls loads of multi–colored paper streamers everywhere—"

Now George and Ginny were paying full attention to Fred. Harry would have also loved to hear it all, but Mrs. Weasley was talking to him.

"We should try it some other way. Maybe with a different twist of the wand? Oh, I so wish those two could quit thinking of jokes for a moment and focus on their brother's wedding . . ."

"Oh, but we are, mother!" smiled Fred.

"Yup, we're thinking on it very much!" smiled George.

Harry saw the glee on their faces. So they were planning something for it, after all. And Molly's mothering instinct easily detected it.

"Don't you dare doing anything at the wedding," she said, slowly. "I might not be fully in favor of Fleur, but I'm currently thinking of my son's happiness. And if you two try anything—"

"We solemnly promise we won't mess up at the wedding," both Fred and George said, and Harry noticed the serious change in their voices. However, when Mrs. Weasley left the room several seconds later to look after more issues of _Witch Weekly_, George added, grinning: "Not _at_ the wedding, anyway."

"You two better be careful," said Ginny. "I think mum has been tolerant with you lot, but even she has limits, you know. It's not the same to prank Bill on his wedding than on a regular day. Not that I wouldn't love to see Fleur covered with wedding cake," she added, not being able to keep it to herself.

The twins' faces beamed. "That's our little sister, so very fond of her older brothers."

"I mean it," she said, still smiling. "Don't."

The twins left the room muttering something about _'paper streamers'_ and _'collapsible wedding cake'_, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. As it had happened since the night of the confession, every time they were alone in the same room there was something else in the air.

Harry was practicing his Cintas enchantment, but he still couldn't perform silver–white streamers. Ginny giggled behind his back, making Harry feel warm. They knew they were thinking on the same thing.

"I—"

"I'm still saying no," she grinned.

"How can you know what I'll ask?" Harry turned.

"You were a bit still before opening your mouth," she said. "When you get that still you're usually thinking something serious."

Harry turned and invoked Cintas again. This time the streamers were solid pink.

"What will we tell Ron and Hermione, then?" Harry asked. "You know what their plans are."

"I've been thinking on that, yes," said Ginny, her voice trailing from a distant place. "I know he'll go mental. Hermione, well, she will feel scandalized, of course. But, at the end—"

She got quiet.

"Having regrets?" he asked while releasing plain white streamers from his wand.

"Not regrets. Just a bit of guilt. My family, you know . . . But anyway, I'm not a little kid—"

"Neither are you an adult," Harry added. "Not under wizard rules, anyway."

There was a dead silence following. Harry attempted some more Cintas, but his sudden thoughts of concern made his streamers become pitch black.

"Imagine—", she suddenly whispered, "—I am dead by the time you return."

Harry's wand flick froze in mid–movement.

"Imagine—" she added, slowly, "—they make their way here."

Harry turned, slowly, until his eyes met hers.

"Imagine I never reach my next birthday and become of age . . . Not under wizard rules."

"Don't — _ever_ — say that," he whispered, and his worries could be felt quicker than seen. "I know the actual situation is awful, but—"

"There won't be a Hogwarts to protect students, this year," she said. "I know you are concerned and so will I, but think of it once and for all: how could you be a little less concerned? Having me staying here or—"

She stopped abruptly when the door opened and Mrs. Weasley walked in, holding a pack of old _Witch Weekly_ editions.

"These have lovely Decoration Charms, Harry, dear. Why don't we — What's wrong?"

She had caught both Harry and Ginny's eyes.

"Nothing, mum. I'll be cleaning my bedroom. Guests will be coming soon and, well . . ."

She left. Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a strange look. Harry flipped his wand almost unconsciously and whispered _'Cintas!'_ The sight of a large silver–white paper streamer made Molly forget of everything else.

–**o–**

**G**inny didn't speak to Harry for the rest of that day. Whenever he found her she rushed out of his path. Harry was sure she was avoiding him, and couldn't decide if that made him angry or sad.

Ron and Hermione came to aid with the decoration. Hermione had no problem at all with the silver–white streamers, but Ron only managed green tulips out from nowhere. He was happy the twins weren't there to witness his skills.

Neither during lunch nor dinner Ginny showed any interest in Harry. She distracted herself by talking to Tonks or with her twin brothers, who seemed more enthusiastic on the topic of pranks during the wedding. Mr. Weasley, who had arrived late after a hard day of work, said they were now responsible for their actions and that they should behave, which of course the twins took as a sort of personal challenge.

Harry couldn't sleep that night, neither. He was thinking hard on Ginny, worrying for her. There was no doubt she was much stronger than most people her age should be. So was he. He had been much stronger than the average boys he had seen in his earlier years. How couldn't he understand Ginny's wish, then? Especially when—

But she had helped them back at the Ministry, hadn't she? And she was a year younger than she was now. But still, this was much more different. They weren't at Hogwarts, as she had pointed out, and so she wasn't able to perform magic. Or perhaps she could, given the circumstances of defensive spells against an incoming danger? Thinking it over, the Ministry should have allowed underage wizards and witches to cast spells at will if they seemed in danger.

Harry turned on his bed. He didn't want to let his feelings toward her interfere. If it was for his feelings he would grant her wish at once, but right now his brain and reasoning were battling fiercely within his skull and so far they'd annoyed him on standing against her wills.

But the owl had been already sent, he thought next. Oh, well, it wouldn't matter anyway because that was a neat idea either way.

He turned over the mattress. It was awful not to sleep well. Would Ginny be awake, too? Maybe she was at the kitchen, just like the night after he arrived, and—

And _what_, then? What would change? Ginny was right: they both knew how to be stubborn. Harry sighed deeply. For a split second the resolution came to his aching mind, and he was keen on grabbing hard on it, not letting it go and keeping it very close to his heart.

At last, he was resolved.

The following morning Harry woke up earlier than anyone else, or so he thought before climbing down the stairs and seeing Ginny's open bedroom door. He let his curiosity take over and he peeked into the silent room. There was Hermione sleeping in a second bed, but Ginny's was empty.

Harry climbed down to the kitchen and found not only Ginny there but also Tonks. She was cooking breakfast.

"Wotcher," Tonks whispered. Ginny turned her head toward the stairs and then back to the table when she saw Harry. "Morning bird, Harry? I'll have breakfast done in a minute. Have a seat, will ya?"

Harry nodded to her back and softly walked to the table, sitting across Ginny and fixedly gazing in her eyes. She gazed back.

"How're ya feeling for fried eggs? You want some, Harry?" asked Tonks.

"I do," Harry whispered, and Ginny's eyes widened when realizing he wasn't talking to Tonks.

"Very well, fried eggs and toast for _'The Chosen One'_, then . . . I also learned a new spell to make marmalade. Mind if I try?" Tonks said.

Ginny leaned a bit forward on the table, staring at Harry through amazed eyes. "Are you sure?" she whispered, her voice trembling a bit.

"Yeah, it's not difficult at all," said Tonks cheerfully, totally oblivious to the scene behind her. "I just hope you guys don't mind if I mess it up a bit—never really tried it, see."

"I won't regret it," Harry smiled, and again his answer was not for Tonks, no matter what she believed.

Harry and Ginny smiled and extended their arms on top of the table and held their hands tightly closed, one with the other.

"Mum will be so outraged," she nervously giggled. Harry nodded.

"No, she won't," mumbled Tonks. "This time I'll make sure not to make the eggs explode or anything. Let's see, now, how did it go . . .?"

Harry and Ginny leaned forward and kissed over the table. It was then that Tonks shouted an incantation. The couple of lovebirds reacted just in time and jumped away. The eggs didn't explode, but the rest of the breakfast wasn't so lucky: the toast cracked into bits, the sausages swelled until they blew away with a shrieking pitch, the pots and saucer pan shot up and stuck on the ceiling.

And the eggs stood there. Coated in strawberry marmalade.

There was much to be said from Mrs. Weasley's point of view. The whole house had awoken to the sound of the explosion and the thought of Death Eaters filled every corridor. It was a laugh when they find out about Tonks' failed marmalade enchantment; the twins immediately thought on a _'Birthday Breakfast Blast–A–Way'_ kit for birthday surprises (it was like any breakfast delivery service, only the greeted one happened to have a nice start–up for a birthday breakfast), Ron laughed like a maniac and Hermione gave him a hard glance.

Harry and Ginny skipped Molly Weasley's long ranting on Tonks and her own promises of better cooking spells and went out the house without anyone else noticing. The sky was cloudless and promising high temperatures. They held hands as they strolled around. Then they turned and head to a patch of fresh grass and sat there, watching the horizon. Ginny chose that moment to break the silence.

"Thanks," she just said.

"Don't thank me," Harry said. "I said I wouldn't regret it, but you probably will. I recognize you have talent, but you are not yet allowed to do any magic."

"Not yet, you said. I'll be turning sixteen next August, and then it's only a year after that before . . ."

"Yeah . . ."

Harry looked from the horizon as he felt her hands hugging him. He returned the hug and sighed.

"You are right. I will be less worried if you come along with us," Harry admitted. "But your mum—"

"Indeed. Mum will be so angry," Ginny nodded. "I don't even know if I'll say anything to her. I will probably just slip a note somewhere . . . so she can find it. I dunno."

She was sounding concerned. Harry didn't find it surprising at all. He simply tightened his hold on her.

They weren't seen again until almost lunch. Mrs. Weasley was upset and very worried, so were Tonks, Hermione, and Ron. Fred and George, however, noticing Ginny accompanying Harry, just smiled and winked at them.

If only everybody would be like Fred and George, thought Harry. They do take things seriously, but in their own, twisted way. They can find a joke at the end of a disaster and make it sound dignifying at the same time. They are probably the only ones who can see the real worth of a person up front.

Harry thought on that and remembered that the twins have given the Marauders' Map to him, and they knew Harry would use it. Yet they trusted it to him and it turned out to be a great ally in his — using the word as any other — mischief. And they had already admitted Ginny was not weak in any sense.

If only more people could be like Fred and George Weasley . . . This ought to be a funnier, more amusing world.

–**o–**

"**B**ill's coming today!" said Mrs. Weasley anxiously. The house had become a whirlwind all around her. She was so thrilled at the thought of seeing her first son again that she stumbled over more things in one morning than Tonks in a week. "Fred, George, get properly dressed!" she snapped.

"We're wearing shirts and trousers and shoes and socks!" said Fred.

"Even underwear!" claimed George.

"That means you have to _combine_ them!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

Harry couldn't help to laugh. Despite the fact the twins were wearing all what they claimed to wear, it didn't mean the colors would match: Fred had a brown left shoe with yellow sock and a blue right shoe with a purple sock, not to mention the extra–wide clown trousers and red–and–yellow–striped shirt. George was wearing a similar outfit, only in a different, more extended range of colors.

"Ginny, Ron, and you too, Harry, quit laughing!" Mrs. Weasley furiously. "And about you two—" she added in the twins' direction "—Bill will arrive with Fleur and — and her family," she shuddered. "I want you all to be presentable. Fleur's family is much too different from us: they're well–positioned in society and they don't really live in a country house, so I am expecting you to behave and absolutely not trick anyone with your jokes. And I don't think most of them even speak English!"

"That'd be a shame if they don't understand out jokes," George smiled.

"I mean it! Now, I've seen you wearing fine dragon jackets. That's a much better outfit for you two, so move and get to it!"

The twins grinned and spun right before Disapparating. Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply.

"What will we wear, then?" asked Ron.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll wear your dress robes."

"What, like, all the time?" Ron coughed.

"Of course not! Only during the wedding. You can wear your regular clothes if you wish until then. I just forced those two whippersnappers to be decent before the guests arrived!"

It was obvious to everybody that Mrs. Weasley would have an eye (in not both) constantly on the twins. No one dared annoy her during the whole morning, especially after Fred and George came downstairs inside a hilarious two–person dragon outfit.

"What do you probably _think_ you're doing!" Mrs. Weasley's rage was audible even over Ron, Ginny and Harry's laughter.

"But mum!" said Fred's mockingly–surprised voice from within the dragon's head: "You said it yourself! _'I've seen you wearing a fine dragon costume. That's much better than your jackets'_! Owchies!"

Fred's half of dragon costume had ripped apart from George's when Mrs. Weasley's Diffindo spell hit it. George, peeking from the rear piece, didn't seem terrified at all.

"Don't you change my words! Now, get lost and dress properly _before I get really mad!_" she yelled.

"Let's go, George!" Fred grinned.

"I'm moving my dragon buttock, brother!" George answered.

Ron, Ginny and Harry stopped laughing the moment Mrs. Weasley aimed her "Knock It Off. Now." Look on them. Fortunately, Fred and George returned looking more presentable, now properly dressed with their dragon–skin jackets and trousers. They were the most luxurious–looking thing in the whole Burrow.

Bill was expected to arrive by noon via the use of a Portkey. He had sent an owl indicating when and where the materialization would take place, so Mr. Weasley made sure to keep the arriving spot clear by surrounding it with some poles and a yellow tape around it. Harry didn't know where Mr. Weasley had obtained an American Muggle Police Keep Out Tape, but he was surely thrilled of covering a large area of his backyard with the legend _'KEEP OUT – CRIME SCENE – POLICE AREA'_.

"Arthur! You said you got rid of that horrible thing!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"I didn't have the heart, Molly, dear. And you see it can be useful."

The idea of seeing his son materializing within a _'CRIME SCENE'_ was not among Mrs. Weasley's thought of an useful thing, but she was fairy busy watching over the twins as for paying enough attention at what her husband was doing, so she left the place before she had stronger regrets. Along with Mr. Weasley, Ron was also finding the tape amusing, but Harry and Hermione didn't dare exchanging a glance. They knew they'd laugh too loud if they ever did.

"You think it'll be a warm welcome, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, grinning at the finished work with the tape.

But Harry didn't have time to reply. There was a loud _CRACK_ and a faint glow and then Bill and Fleur and some other people were standing in the center of the _'CRIME SCENE'_.

Harry gasped. He hadn't forgotten Bill's appearance the last time he saw him, back when Fenrir Greyback practically designed a crossword grid out of Bill's face, but he had suspected his face would have healed better. Even Mad–Eye Moody had lesser scars, and his weren't as visible as Bill's.

Bill smiled. It made his scars look worse.

"Bill!" said Mr. Weasley, jumping over the police tape and hugging his eldest son. Behind them Fleur began to speak to the other persons in hurried French. There was a little girl next to her who was watching at Harry. He recalled her to be Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister.

"Harry, Ron! Hermione!" said Bill walking toward them. He crouched below the police tape without really noticing it and then he hugged the tallest of his little brothers. Hermione elbowed Harry so he could react and, possibly, stop staring at Bill's wounds.

"_Hi, Bill_," he squeaked. It was not a good start, but luckily Bill didn't notice.

Fleur's voice came floating and Harry now looked at her. She was gesturing at him with a delicate wave of her hands and talking to the other people, _they_ being a tall and absolutely beautiful woman from whom Fleur got all her charms, a good–looking man with thin, blonde moustache, and little Gabrielle. They were now looking amazed and Harry realized it was because they were in the presence of _'The Chosen One'_.

"'Arry!", Fleur said next, walking steadily at him and avoiding the police tape with a swift wave of her hand. Her family followed after her, leaving behind an old and tarnished bed knob. "Theez eez my fam'ly," she haughtily said, gesturing now to the newcomers. "My mother Monique, my father Pierre, and I beleeve you already know Gabrielle."

Harry bowed in what he thought was a respectful matter. Monique bobbed in return and Pierre stepped forward for a hand–shake. They both spoke a hurried French Harry didn't really understood, but was sure they were excited to meet him. Bill and Mr. Weasley headed to the house, so Fleur spoke again and guided her family out of the _'CRIME SCENE'_ and followed after his fiancée, introducing Hermione and Ron to her parents at their respective time.

Harry looked at Ron. He seemed charmed to see Fleur again, which made Hermione look stiff and grouchy. Harry, knowing an imminent discussion was at the doorstep of the events, excused himself with a hurried _'I'll go check if Mrs. Weasley has something for us to do'_ in the precise moment Hermione began to say in a familiar tone, _'Ron, I think we should talk—'_ and escaped the scene so fast he actually Disapparated.

Surely he didn't mean it, but his mind had been somewhere else. Not only was his mind focused on a desired Destination but his Determination and Deliberation were beyond the normal borders of reasonable thought, deeply buried within his subconscious, a most dominant zone whenever he stopped thinking and acted purely on instinct.

It all meant that he got surprised. One moment he was at the back garden and when he stumbled over his own feet he was in Ginny's room, watching his beloved one staring at him and yelping two seconds later, covering herself with the nearest piece of clothing she could manage to grab (the bed blankets, in this case).

"_Harry!_ What—How _dare_ you?" she turned scarlet, however not the deep tone Harry had achieved. Surely Ginny wasn't expecting anyone while she changed clothes in the privacy of her own bedroom. Harry tried to move, but his mind was hopelessly lost in a sudden mix of forbidden passion, secret and utmost desires and, above it all, absolute embarrassment.

Ginny was also stunned. Despite her shocked and furious expression Harry could feel the glimpse of a smile on the corner of those beautiful lips. He tried to speak. All that came out was a pathetic _'Grr…'_ that, on the whole, sounded even worse. It had been only one second, but the image in front of him before she could make good use of her blanket was now occupying an important and notorious place in his mind and, Harry knew, would now never depart from his future dreams.

"_Out_," she whispered. Was that the vaguest hint of an amused tone? thought Harry. "We can . . . discuss this . . . later," she added.

Harry nodded. He wished he could have at least blinked in all that time. He was sure his eyebrows had reached the ceiling. He tried his best to focus on the back garden and the tried and true Destination, Determination and Deliberation.

"—not that I mind, do you understand?" finished Hermione. Neither she nor Ron seemed to have realized Harry had Apparated a few feet from the point he Disapparated, seconds ago.

"Well!" said Ron turning red on his ears. "_Well!_" he repeated. "If you could just make up your mind—!"

"If _I_ could just make up—Oh, that's so _lame_! How about you, then?"

"What about me?" asked Ron, agitated. "I mean, what about _me_? I have nothing to say."

"Oh, you don't, do you," Hermione snorted. "What happened to old _Won–Won_?"

"_Don't—_" he panicked.

"_Oh, yes, I do!_" Hermione stomped one foot on the grass below. "I believe we have grown enough to trust each other. I say we can stop playing around and act according to our age and situation. We're going on a very serious journey and all you think is whenever Fleur will kiss you again!"

"She's sort of a Veela!" said Ron, cowering a bit.

"And that's sort of a pathetic excuse to hear over and over!" she almost shrieked, her eyes starting to water. "Don't you see — Can't you realize — Why can't you—"

She let a loud but short yell of frustration and then her hands grabbed Ron's shirt, pulling him all of the sudden to a tight embrace and a deep kiss. Ron's eyes grew huge at first, but once shock, horror, and surprise went away he closed them and wrapped his arms around Hermione, joining in the kiss in a more relaxed way.

Harry stood there for a few seconds. Then he slowly, very slowly turned and looked up at the sky. Life was so simple some seconds ago . . . How had it turned so insanely mental all of the sudden?

–**o–**

**F**leur's family were actually very kind people. The Delacours were very polite in response to the Weasley's hospitality. Mrs. Weasley went far beyond her culinary skills and was ready to surprise the newcomers with French food. Ron didn't find it amusing to have to digest something he wasn't even able to spell correctly, but the Delacours were certainly delighted.

Mr. Weasley had borrowed from some contacts at the Ministry what seemed to be a large briefcase. He placed it on the grass, several meters away from the formal house, and produced his wand.

"Step back, boys. This will expand," he said, and then he tapped the briefcase with the tip of his wand.

Harry had only seen similar effects in the Muggle cartoons Dudley had sometimes watched. The briefcase leapt, shook and trembled in a terrifying way, then opened. And opened again, and again, and _again_. It was actually unfolding itself into something large and cubic. Harry caught the sight of inner walls and doors and even a fireplace. Mr. Weasley, Ron and Harry had to retreat slowly as the thing that had once been an ordinary briefcase decided it had always wished to be a small house. Then, with one last, loud jump, the house landed heavily on the grass, making the ground tremble.

"_Wow_…" said Harry. It was his most honest remark on it.

"_Carry–Able Cabins_," smiles Mr. Weasley. "Very expensive, I grant you, but very reliable as well."

"Has anybody ever stayed in when it folded back into a briefcase?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes, Julius McMorris, of the Ministry of Mysteries, once got stuck in one of the older models," said Mr. Weasley in a casual tone, just as he would be talking of last night's lovely weather. "Luckily, these new ones have a Lodger Detector built in that prevents the house from returning to its original shape if there're living things inside of it."

He opened the door and walked in, followed by Ron and Harry. As it often happened with Wizard Houses and Accommodations, Harry was fooled by the outward size of the cabin. It was much larger on the inside. It reminded him of the camping tent Mr. Weasley had borrowed for the Quidditch World Cup, several years back. Only this house had much more class.

They explored the inside to check that everything was in perfect condition. The house had formed a large sitting room with that fireplace Harry had squinted at while the house was unfolding, there were two bedrooms, a small kitchen with dining room, and a rest room. Harry decided not to ask how the toilet, sink, and bathtub connected to the sewer system . . . he didn't really want to know. Magic was the best reason he could come up with, and he hoped he was right.

"Very cool," said Ron as he closed a tiny cupboard. "How much do these things cost, again?"

"Thousands of Galleons," whispered Mr. Weasley. "I'd say at least three thousands for this small one. I've seen Carry–Able Mansions as well."

"_Why_ is there a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling?" asked Ron, deviating Harry's thought from the idea he has just formed within his skull. He looked up and there was, in fact, a large and stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh, that," said Mr. Weasley. "Wizard Fashion just west of here. We can't help showing off."

The Delacours found their little home rather comfy, after the stuffed alligator had been removed and stored up in the attic of the Burrow, which Harry was sure the ghoul living there wouldn't find funny at all.

The day after the newcomers arrived was Ginny's birthday. She woke up with a stack of presents at the end of her bed. She thanked them all, but she didn't tell Harry what she thought of his present until evening came. Ginny and Harry had gone out for a walk, Tonks watching them from a respectful distance.

"Thanks for your present, Harry," she had said. "I love these earrings. Little hanging Snitches… They flutter their tiny wings and everything."

"Glad you liked them," he said.

"Though it was not what I was expecting," she added.

They had sat on the grass. The top of that particular grass hill had unconsciously become their favorite spot.

"What were you expecting, then?" he asked.

"I dunno. Something more . . . private?" she suggested with a slight purr.

There was a faint click within Harry's mind when he heard that tone, and all conscious thought was lost. He felt her body sliding closer, side by side with his.

He turned crimson.

"Have — Have I said sorry for Apparating in your bedroom when you—"

"No need."

"Only you were—"

"It was an accident," she smiled.

She hugged him. He hugged her. It was a smooth, synchronized movement.

"Bill's wedding's in three days," Harry whispered. "I wonder if Hagrid will answer my letter."

"He will," Ginny whispered back. "He knows of your mission and won't suspect anything."

They stayed in that position, hugging and watching the fading sun on the horizon. There was something Harry just had to say.

"It'll be the night after the wedding," he quietly said. "The first night after Fleur's family leaves."

She vaguely nodded. "Any reason in particular?"

"Yes. If we do it before the wedding we would cause some commotion."

"Indeed."

He was itching to add something, and Ginny sensed it before he even opened his mouth.

"I'm not regretting my decision," she said.

"I wasn't going to complain about it!" he claimed.

"Oh?"

"It was something else — uhm — yes, something else."

"What would it be?"

Harry hesitated. Crimson was too soft for his current color. Scarlet sounded better.

"I just couldn't help thinking that — well . . . we will be sort of living together."

"That is true," she smiled.

"And — And since . . . Ah, uhm, I mean—"

"Does it have to do with Apparating into my bedroom while I was changing?" she asked, and Harry's cheeks went scarlet as he sensed the amusement in her voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" he stuttered. "What with us living together . . . I mean, the temptation — I mean, what I mean is—" He stopped and got quiet. Ginny was giggling. "What's so funny?" he asked, now a bit irked.

"You've faced death so many times . . . and yet you get more nervous in front of a woman you want to _be_ with . . ." Ginny giggled again. Harry's face retired the scarlet glow and moved on to a new gamma of previously undiscovered red.

"Well," he said, not helping a loud–pitched intonation that made Ginny giggle louder, "there is that, okay. Just — Just think on it for a moment, will you? There we will be, alone. You're right, I admit it, I want to – to – to _be_ with you, but you are—"

"—too young?" she grinned. "Or perhaps you are too noble?"

"Er . . . I—"

She tightened the hug. "It is difficult to discuss, isn't it? I also want to _be_ with you, and I'm not ashamed of that. And about my age, I believe I have grown faster as I learned how the world was, how it worked, and how people could be so nasty in an incredibly short time. And if they can even kill when they're young, why can't we love instead? Why can't _I_? Why can't _you_?"

Harry also tightened the hug. He was so amazed. The moment she decided to open up and start talking was when he began to realize how amazingly strong she was. Behind the quiet girl there was a brave warrior hiding, and he had seen much of both in the past six years.

And he wanted to see much more.

"Anyway," he said, trying in vain to keep his voice soft and calm, "Ron and Hermione will be joining us shortly after we move. They'll surely catch up with us in, say, a week?"

"Then we better use that week wisely," she smiled, cuddling Harry to his melting point.

He sighed and just hugged her. He wouldn't be able to sleep that night: his mind was crammed full of soft, pink thoughts.

–**o–**

(To Be Continued...)


	3. A sudden twist

–**o–**

**Chapter Three  
A sudden twist**

**W**here had the time gone? Was it really twenty–four hours later? Could people even change so much in that brief space?

According to Mrs. Weasley's attitude, people could. Or, in better and more precise terms, _she_ could.

With less than forty–eight hours until the big event, Mrs. Weasley had suddenly realized the oncoming truth: her eldest son was about to marry. It hit her like a sandbag, in the face and with her guard lowered. She had awoken as if it were a normal day. She went to the kitchen and made sure Tonks wasn't attempting to make breakfast. She then began to cook sausage, toast, and fried eggs. Ginny woke up and walked into the kitchen. Behind her came Hermione, then Harry, then Ron, then the Twins and Bill. Tonks appeared soon after them, but coming in from the outside after a long night of patrolling and looking devastated.

And then it happened.

There was a sob. A sob like none at the table had ever heard. This sounded as though someone had choked on a large swig of water. The indescribable noise was immediately followed by the crashing of a frying pan on the kitchen floor and the necks of eight other people whipping toward the small, chunky silhouette of Mrs. Weasley, half–bent over the cauldron and breathing heavily.

"Oh my . . ." she gasped. "Oh my . . . Oh my, _oh my_ . . ."

Tonks and Bill hurried to aid Mrs. Weasley. She didn't seem to want to move, but with some effort they managed to bring her toward the nearest chair and had her sit on it. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.

"Mum?" asked Ginny in a serious tone.

"Oh my oh my _oh my_ . . .!" was all Mrs. Weasley said.

"Should I wake dad?" said Ron, terrified.

"No, wait," Hermione held his arm. "I think I know . . ."

Tonks brought a glass of water to Mrs. Weasley, who by then had a pale face. Bill stared directly at her eyes.

"Mum?" he slowly said. "Are you—?"

"_Oh, Bill!_" she suddenly cried, hugging her son so tight and abruptly that both Tonks and Harry drew their wands at once. They felt rather dumb when realizing their action and hurried to store them back in their pockets.

"Bill!" Mrs. Weasley cried again, her closed eyes sprinkled with teardrops. "Bill, you're getting married!"

It was a very odd sight – Bill's scarred face was going to the far limits of the red hue Harry had discovered in only the past several hours. Hermione coughed a bit.

"Thought so," she whispered. "She's just got it."

Ron and the Twins, who had turned to see Hermione, now moved their eyes to their mother and older brother.

"You're going to be _married_!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, jumping off her chair and releasing Bill in such an abrupt movement anybody around would have thought she had touched one of Arthur's stripped wires. "Oh my . . . _Oh my!_ Bill, you're going to be married, and in just two days! Oh my oh my! The _guests_! The guests shall arrive soon! And I haven't cleaned! And the rooms – and the – and —"

"Well, well," George slowly whispered, not smiling at all. "Bill has achieved what we couldn't in all these years . . ."

"Yeah," nodded his twin brother, not smiling as well, "he made Mum lose it for good . . ."

Harry knew Molly Weasley by heart. She had been so kind to him in the past years that he thought he knew almost everything about her. So he was very surprised when she got suddenly quiet and her face turned even paler.

"We have so much work to do!" she almost shouted. "We must clean the house, and prepare the guestrooms, and start thinking on the food for the wedding party, and —"

"Be afraid . . ." muttered Fred.

" . . . Be very afraid," finished George. Everybody around nodded mournfully.

To say Mrs. Weasley had become mildly frantic would have been a very lame description of her current state. She was _hysterical_. Harry had known her about authoritative side since Grimmauld Place, when she literally commanded her own little army of house–cleaners. What she began to do was much, much worse than that.

To begin with, the meal was full of Mrs. Weasley's ideas of things to do, and who would do them. Tonks excused herself saying she had to go out and patrol a bit more, but the rest of the group ended up with several chores to finish before noon and several more after lunch. Ron and the Twins protested, but it was clear they would waste their breath on a lost battle from the very beginning.

From a quiet little breakfast the day had turned into a race against the clock. Harry and Ron had been assigned to the bedroom of the latter, having the mission of cleaning it up. Ron said it was clean enough but his mother was now a solid wall of determination. There was no way to contradict her.

Hermione helped Ginny to clean her room; Bill offered to help the Twins clean theirs, in spite of Mrs. Weasley nearly refusing to let her beloved son work on "his special day". Mr. Weasley was awoken by the unmistakable war cry of his darling wife, and was immediately put to work in the back garden.

The Delacours had exited their cabin and looked at the Burrow: dust clouds puffed out of every window. Fleur, who knew Mrs. Weasley much better than any of her relatives, gave a little cough and explained in refined French something along the lines of _"They're cleaning the house for the wedding"_ but that, for some unknown reason, Fleur's expression made it sound slightly insignificant.

During lunch it was clear to the Delacours something was happening. Half of the long table the Weasleys had arranged in the backyard was occupied by dusty people. Hermione's hair looked like a dirty dandelion clock, and now it was easy to identify Fred and George by the different mud patterns on their faces. Still, the Delacours proved to be excellent guests and, instead of complaining about the general group appearance (though Fleur had to bite her tongue) were set on learning some English words of appreciation for Mrs. Weasley's food.

"The first guests will arrive tonight, so move it!" Mrs. Weasley panicked some two hours later, having arranged new chores for the family. "We'll need some more beds, Arthur . . ."

Harry coughed out more dust and resumed feather–dusting the cupboard. It was proving to be an exhausting mission. The feather–duster had been long ago charmed by the Twins and now it had a mind of its own, and it certainly didn't want Harry Potter to guide it on its life–long occupation. Instead, the feather–duster was guiding Harry's hand. It was all very neat to have cleaning equipment that would do the chores itself, but this failed joke in particular was keener on toppling teacups than freeing them from dust, not to mention wishing to bring nervous breakdowns on anyone trying to clean with it.

"You have to grip it hard!" said Ginny, coming to his aid. "I've been cleaning with that for years, now. Look."

Ginny snatched the enchanted feather–duster from Harry's hands and squeezed it hard. Its feathers shuddered and went limp.

"You take it," smiled Ginny. "I must help mum with the attic. That ghoul won't cooperate."

Harry took the feather–duster and smiled at her. Ginny left and Harry followed her figure with his eyes. They stopped on the staircase, where she disappeared. Harry took a long, tender sigh of mixed feelings and a sudden and violent jerk on his arm brought him back to reality. He swore and hoped he would snap the feather–duster with the next squeeze.

After what seemed ages of hard work, the house sparkled and Mrs. Weasley ordered everybody to get properly cleaned and correctly dressed. A very long line formed outside the bathroom door; Harry was one of the last people in the row. By the time he got out of the bathroom to let Fred in, Harry could hear a muffled collection of voices coming from the kitchen. There were more than usual.

The answer to that arrived as soon as Harry, now refreshed and wearing clean clothes, climbed down to the kitchen and discovered several new people in the room. Mrs. Weasley beamed at him as she grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him into the conversation she was having with a tall, elderly woman.

"—and _this_ is Harry Potter!" she gleefully said. The elderly woman's eyebrows shot to the ceiling and, as Harry had expected, fixed immediately on his lightning–shaped scar.

"_Oho!_" said the old woman, a hand politely on her mouth. "This is ever a pleasure! Oh my!"

"Harry, dear, this is our Great–Auntie Muriel."

"Oh! Ah!" said Harry. "Yes, Ron and Ginny told me about you, ma'am . . ." he said, and he suddenly became aware he had run out of topics.

Fortunately for him, Ron walked in at that moment.

"Ronnikins!" Muriel cried in delight. Harry turned in time to see Ron mouthing '_Oh No'_.

Muriel hurried around Harry and before anybody could stop her she was cracking Ron's backbone in a powerful hug. Ron's face was deep crimson against his great-aunt's shoulder, though Harry couldn't guess if it was because of embarrassment or plainly due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

"Oh, you naughty little handsome man!" Muriel said, cheerfully pinching both of Ron's freckled cheeks. "I had word my handsome little man is dating, isn't he then?"

Friendship or not, Harry had to turn and send both hands to clasp his mouth to prevent the sudden eruption of laughter in his throat. He could still hear them, though.

"What are you talking about?" Ron worriedly whispered.

"Oh, come on, now, Fred and George told it all to me. What is her name, then again? Lavender, wasn't it?"

"He prefers her calling him _Won–Won_," George's voice floated down from the stairs. Fred's gleeful voice immediately followed, "_Ickle Won-Won_!"

"_That's not—!_"

"Oh, don't you be shy, Ronnikins . . . You are such a handsome boy and will —"

Harry chose than moment to move along and meet the other guests, although most of them were focusing on the scene at Harry's back. He recognized the Weasley's trademark red hair in most of the guests. One of the shorter men turned his attention from Ron and Muriel and greeted Harry, claiming to be Ron's grandfather. There were other cousins and relatives, but in total there were no more than ten extra people, including some Harry knew very well: there were a couple of members from the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry immediately headed their way when spotting them.

"Good evening, Potter," muttered Mad–Eye Moody, his magical blue eye spinning wildly. "Had a nice stay so far?"

"Yes, indeed," Harry couldn't help but smile. Behind his back he could hear Ron trying to free himself from the clutches of Auntie Muriel. Harry tried hard to keep his attention on both Mad–Eye and Minerva McGonagall, who was alongside the senior Auror.

"Well, we are certainly relieved to see you unharmed," McGonagall said to Harry, looking sideways to check that nobody else was paying attention to their chat. It seemed Ron and Auntie Muriel were attracting it all, so McGonagall continued, in a lower voice: "We should discuss some points about the mission Dumbledore put upon you, however."

Harry nodded, aware that he was expecting the topic to spring any moment.

"Hagrid got your owl," she went on. "He didn't doubt doing what you requested, but we preferred to wait and talk it out with you. Why have you chosen that way?"

"I thought it would be proper," Harry simply said. "I'm planning to go to Godric's Hollow first, and attempting Apparition in an unknown place would be rather stupid."

McGonagall nodded. "Well, I'm glad to see you're beginning to think clearly. Godric's Hollow, then? I suppose . . . there are other reasons involved?"

"There is, yes. I — I want to visit my parents' graves."

Despite Ron's shrieking retorts towards both Fred and George's mocking, the little space surrounding Harry, McGonagall and Moody became quiet and serious.

"I understand . . . Harry," McGonagall said quietly.

"It is good to see you stick to your principles," Moody smiled, his scars re–arranging their positions in a strange fashion. "You'll do good, Potter."

"In that case, I'll send orders to Hagrid to bring it with him, tomorrow," McGonagall resumed. "When will you leave, then?"

Harry hesitated. "I was thinking about . . . tomorrow night. After the wedding party and . . . well, hopefully when everybody is in bed. Does Mrs. Weasley know —"

"She doesn't know a thing," Moody mumbled, serious again. "We haven't told her. You do understand she is too fond of you. I wouldn't want to meet her eye when she realizes . . . But anyway, you'll go along your way. Just like James and Lily, really."

Harry nodded, but couldn't keep talking. He turned and noticed Ron was arguing with the Twins, but it surely wasn't anything serious, otherwise Hermione and Ginny wouldn't be laughing so hard at him. Auntie Muriel was staring at Ron with that over–protective face Harry had quickly memorized and stored in his forever-growing "Beware of This" section of brain.

That night Harry simply couldn't sleep. The previous nights he had had similar problems, but at least he was able to close his eyes for an hour or two. This time, however, he was sure he hadn't slumbered at all. The clock was tickling inside his skull and he was also beginning to realize some facts.

He was close to twelve hours from his unexpected farewell. And he was going to drag both Hermione and Ron with him. But he knew the worst bit was that Ginny would also come along. Mrs. Weasley would go mental. He just couldn't picture her face of intense disappointment, rage and sadness once she came to realize—

But he had to stop thinking on that, or else he would never leave. So instead he turned his thoughts only to Ginny. This proved to be a bad idea, since now most of his thoughts toward her involved strangely seducing scenes, most of them taking cues from that little Apparition accident.

Harry bit his pillow. In the past he had been worrying too much about Voldemort and the threat he meant for the Wizard World, and he forgot to worry about himself. Only a few times he had been able to focus on the daily life of a teenager boy and get used to it, but right now he was having an overdose of mixed feelings. Puberty had waited for years, and now it was handing the bill to him.

Ginny . . . Beautiful, gracious Ginny. Ginny Weasley of the long, reddish hair. Ginny Weasley of the Quidditch Pitch. Ginny Weasley of the flowery smell. Ginny, Ginny, oh, so cute, so strong, so beautiful Ginny . . .

Ginny Potter . . .

Harry's thoughts froze at this point. Where had that came from? He heard Ron's snores and tried his best at emptying his mind from every thought, but it was one of the few things Harry could just not perform correctly, emptying his mind.

_Ginny Potter . . ._

Harry rolled on the mattress and suddenly realized he was more awake than before. He had to stop thinking . . .

_Ginny and Harry, living together . . ._

He closed his eyes tightly. This couldn't be true.

_ . . . living together, alone . . ._

Harry covered his head with the blanket.

_ . . . alone, sharing a place on the couch . . ._

He realized he was beginning to lose it.

_ . . . sharing a place in the bed . . ._

Harry gasped and hastily sat on his bed. All his thoughts ran away and hid somewhere, but he knew what he had just thought, and wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He made sure Ron and the Twins, also sleeping in the same room, hadn't awoken. Then he slowly slid off the bed and went to the small window. He leaned his arms on it and looked out at the darkness.

Down on the ground he could see someone patrolling. Tonks. Her bubble–gum–pink hair bobbed just over the light of her wand and was unmistakable. Harry leaned his chin on his folded arms and tried to keep a calm attitude.

It was a lost battle.

–**o–**

**T**he next morning, the kitchen was empty except for Mrs. Weasley, who was feverishly cooking.

"Good morning, Harry, dear," she greeted. "We're having breakfast outside. There're so many people . . ."

Harry greeted her as well and walked out, where he was greeted over and over by all the guests sitting at the long table arranged on the backyard. Moody's magical eye fixed on him a second or two before spinning madly one more time.

"Will you have more sausages?" asked McGonagall.

"No, thanks. I'll be off to patrol. Tonks has gotten tired, and no wonder," Mad–Eye Moody grunted. He produced a bottle from within his robes and gave it a swig. "You can have my seat, Potter," he added as he stood up.

"Thanks, but right now I am feeling like walking a bit. Where is Ginny?" he asked in a very lame casual tone, noticing she was not at the table.

"She's feeding the chickens," spoke Auntie Muriel. Harry noticed she had had seat next to Ron and this had made her favorite grandnephew very uneasy. "She's such a special girl, I'm telling you. I remember when she was a baby: there was—"

But Harry didn't stay to hear what happened when Ginny was a baby, for he needed to speak to the present Ginny. Aware that everybody at the table realized his casual morning walk had headed straight to the chicken coop, he attempted (and failed) to adopt a calm speed that just wouldn't work.

The chicken coop was located around the house, so it wasn't on a direct visual line with the breakfast table. That was not a real worry in Harry's mind, for he felt Mad–Eye's magical eye following him all the way there, even through the Burrow itself. Better that way, thought Harry, now he could talk with Ginny in private without anyone coming to check if they were safe. They all could think whatever they pleased.

And there was Ginny. Harry stopped at once and witnessed an unusual scene. He already knew there were chickens in the Burrow and, obviously, they were to be fed by someone. But he had never seen Ginny Weasley at it.

She was currently showing her back to him, but Harry could see she was wearing an apron and was using it as a temporary bag to carry corn. While one hand held the improvised bag in position, the other one took handfuls of grains and tossed them to the surrounding chickens in a soft swing of her arm that was strangely soft and strong at the same time.

And she was softly humming.

Accompanied by a gentle, almost unnoticeable swing of her body, Ginny hummed the bars of a slow, tender song Harry had never heard before, but which he knew he'd never forget again. The sound seemed to float with the wind and slip into his heart and soul, just like the Phoenix song. The chickens pecked the ground for the fallen grain and came closer at the singer's tune. Harry felt the incredible urge to cluck.

He cleared his throat instead. Ginny's song broke and the girl spun on the spot, looking surprised and a bit embarrassed.

"Harry . . . G–Good morning . . . I was just . . ."

"Don't worry," he hastily said. "It's okay, I didn't mean to — But that was beautiful . . . What was that song?"

"I don't really know," she confessed, turning again and tossing more corn grains. "I just made it up."

"Well, it sounded very cool," he said, approaching her.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Harry noticed Ginny's reddened cheeks as he stopped at her side. Surely she had never let anyone catch her humming, but it wasn't entirely surprising. Hadn't she hidden her Quidditch skills for so long? There were, Harry was convinced, still several skills to discover about Ginny Weasley.

He grabbed a handful of grain from her improvised bag and tossed it to the nearby chickens. They just clucked and pecked.

"Is — Is there anything you wanted to talk about?" she hesitated.

There sure was. But right then Harry was doubtful of the relevance of what he had to say. So what if he had thought _'Ginny Potter'_ in his attempt to sleep? Everybody had wild imagination from time to time. Probably even Hermione Granger.

"Hmm . . . I thought there was," Harry lied, "but can't really recall it now. Mustn't have been important."

"Oh," she whispered.

It wasn't strange for Harry the fact he had suddenly became silent around her, but why was she silent as well? Up to now she had demonstrated she knew how to step ahead when talking, and now she was next to him, quiet. He could sense she was nervous.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, as if looking for a topic.

"Quite so," she whispered. There was something in her voice that sounded odd.

"Today's the wedding," Harry tried. "And then, the party . . ."

She just nodded. Harry felt he had eaten lead and it was currently stuck in his throat.

"And then," he muttered, looking away, ". . . then we will—"

"I would like to be alone, please."

Harry froze and blinked. He looked at Ginny and saw her biting her lower lip. Her eyes were shiny, though she was not looking at him but at the ground.

"What—"

"_Please_," she empathized. Harry now recognized the oddness in her voice: she was holding back tears. "I need time to think some things over."

"But tonight we—"

"Harry . . ." she looked at him. A pair of pearly eyes shone on the morning sun. "_Please_ . . ."

Harry slowly nodded and decided not to say another word. Hesitantly, he turned and strolled back to the breakfast table. Whatever had happened to Ginny, Harry didn't know it. He just hoped it wasn't anything bad.

–**o–**

"**S**he's probably worried, that's all," said Hermione after breakfast, gathered with Harry and Ron in the latter's bedroom. Harry was sitting on his bed while Ron and Hermione sat on the other. "You two are really in love with each other. We have noticed," she added.

Ron nodded. "She's right, you know. Ginny knows what we are up to and, well, it's only natural she'll worry for you, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, but in the depths of his mind he knew neither Ron nor Hermione were aware of his own plans with Ginny.

"She must also be a bit nervous about the whole wedding thing," Hermione went on. "Have you seen her staring at Gabrielle? They both will assist Fleur during the ceremony."

"Oh, that could explain a lot," Ron muttered. "Well, Gabrielle is very quiet. And nice–looking, too," he added, now in that vague tone he reserved for Fleur Delacour.

"Ron!" Hermione said, scowling. "Quit it, will you? I thought we had talked this through!"

Ron stared at her and grinned. "Talked? I thought we just kis—"

"You know what I mean!" she cut in crossly, blushing pink.

"Okay, okay, I do, all right," Ron turned his sight to the window. "Blimey, it's the first wedding I'll be in, too, you know that?"

"Me too," said Harry, who was feeling slightly worried by other topics beyond Ginny. He suddenly wondered what people did at weddings when they were not getting married.

"I've been to my aunt's wedding, some years ago," Hermione said. "Nothing important, really. Mum was invited along with my dad and I. But I've never been at a Wizard Wedding before . . ."

"What about them?" asked Harry.

"Oh, they are different than Muggle Weddings," Hermione said distractedly.

"Are they?" Harry's worries increased. At least he had seen Muggle Weddings on TV and newspapers and such, but he had never thought Wizards would marry in a different way. "How different?" he asked.

"Well . . ." Hermione leaned a bit on the mattress. Harry noticed Ron glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hermione's new pose. "It's a bit like an Unbreakable Vow, you surely remember that one."

"What, the bride and bridegroom vow on their deaths?" Harry said, half amazed, half impressed.

"No, no, of course not! I mean, it's similar in the sense they do hold hands and speak their vows out loud so a bond can be forged between the two!" Hermione hastily said.

Harry scowled in confusion. "I just thought of this one, but . . . what kind of religion do Wizards follow?"

"_Ah_, that has been a widely debated topic all the way," Ron spoke next. "We just follow whichever religion fits us best, just like Muggles around the world. But as for, say, proper Wizard Religion, we plead to Merlin's Blessing."

Harry blinked. "Now, come on . . ."

"It's true," said Hermione. "See, Merlin was the greatest wizard of all times, what with the Merlin Orders given by the Ministry and everything. Wizards can have a catholic wedding, alright, or any other religion they feel comfortable with; but that's mainly for Muggle appearances."

"Then . . . this Vowing thing . . .?"

"That's for the Wizard World," said Ron. "Once the Bond is performed, they are a formal Wizard couple. The Bond doesn't work if either of the sides is a Muggle. It does work with Squibs, however."

"Remember that tapestry at Sirius' house?" Hermione asked, referring to the Black Family Tree. "Well, every time a wizard of that tree marries, their couple is added to the tree magically, and every newborn wizard is also added automatically. It all depends on the magic used for the tree, anyway."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

"It means some wizards allow Muggles and Squibs in their Family Trees, while others—"

"—while others don't," finished Harry. "Yeah, that sounds pretty logical, coming from Sirius' family, anyway . . . There're still so many things I just ignore about the Wizard World and yet I'm going on a scavenger hunt in it."

"Which reminds me," Hermione went on, changing the topic, "how are we going to go with you?" she asked.

Ron let himself fall back on his mattress, his hands clasped on his forehead. He gave a great grunt and muttered a lame "Dunno."

"Well, we better think up something!" she said. "We can't let Harry alone on this one!"

"He will have the support of the Order, won't he?" muttered Ron.

"And didn't you want to be part of it?" she snapped.

"Hey, of course I want," Ron pressed his elbows on the mattress and raised his head. "It's just my mother's the actual problem, see? You two haven't seen her in her really protective mood. It's almost as bad as her absolute reprehensive one."

"You are no longer a kid!" Hermione retorted. "You've turned seventeen, so did both Harry and I! We are free to make our own decisions! It's not as, say, as if we're taking _Ginny_ with us, or anything!"

Harry went pink and was so glad they didn't notice, as they were so focused on their little chat.

"Well, _of course_ Ginny is not coming! You think I'd let my little sister in such an errand? This will be bloody dangerous! What kind of a moron do you think I am?"

Harry went past pink and straight into standard red.

"I am not saying we'll bring her with us! I just gave that as an example! As if we would let someone underage risk her neck in—"

"Harry, what's with you?" Ron suddenly said.

Both he and Hermione stared at Harry. He was scarlet, and became very determined to avoid his friends' gaze.

"Nothing," he lied. "Just thinking on . . . on our escape and . . ."

He could felt Hermione's inquisitorial eyes drilling into his skull. Thank Goodness she didn't know how to perform Legillimancy.

But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't use cold logic.

"_Harry_," she said in a warning tone, "you can't be possibly thinking on taking Ginny with us, can you?"

"W–What? I didn't say I would!"

"Neither you said you wouldn't," she snapped. "Are you serious? This is insane!"

"I haven't said anything!" he claimed, feeling an annoying, irking tickle within his belly.

"You're blushing!" Hermione pushed it.

"Look . . .! Look, just because . . .!" Harry started, but caught Ron's half–open mouth and pale face. "So what if I . . . _thought_ . . . on bringing her with us?" he admitted, being careful not to say too much.

"Now, you are joking me," Ron muttered. "It's a joke, right? Harry, Ginny is—"

"She's stronger than you think, and you know she is," Harry attacked, wondering how the topic and chat mood had become so heavy in so little time.

"So she is, Harry, but under Ministry rules she is not adult enough to perform magic!" Hermione scandalized. "She won't be able to defend herself if . . . if we get attacked, or anything!"

Harry stood up so abruptly Ron and Hermione leaned back. His face was red.

"The Ministry should have thought on those rules, then! These are dark times and I believe everybody should be allowed to cast protective spells in moments of need!"

"Harry, don't change the topic," said Hermione, scared but persistent. "We're talking of Ginny. Please, don't do anything stupid. I know you like her, but don't—"

"Don't what?" he said. "Don't do anything idiotic, like bringing my friends to a nice fight to the death with a pack of Death Eaters down at the Ministry of Magic?"

". . . here we go . . ." muttered Ron, looking at the ceiling.

"Or perhaps, don't do anything out of my mind, like thinking for a whole year that Malfoy and Snape were together in a plot against Hogwarts? _Get a grip, Hermione!_" he cried. "Voldemort is out there and he's never cared about the age of his next victim! We _all_ are potential victims! Not just us wizards but Muggles as well! And can _they_ do magic? No! I'd like to see what you think when you get back home and spot the Death Mark right over your parent's hou—"

There was a loud clap, and next thing Harry knew he was stumbling back on his bed with a hurting cheek. Hermione had stood up and was glaring at Harry with blazing, watery eyes. Ron remained sitting, looking at Hermione with wide eyes and an expression that showed no wish of risking his cheeks by talking.

"Just what the _hell_ is wrong with you?" she stuttered on the verge of tears. "How dare you say something like that? You think — you think I haven't considered that? You believe I haven't thought on my parent's sake? Do you perhaps imagine I am not worried for them, that I am here enjoying myself?"

Harry rubbed his hurt cheek. His wrath had left with the blow and now he was wondering how much more of an idiot he could make out of himself.

"I am _not_," she gulped. "I am bloody _not_. So don't you never — _ever _— say that again."

Harry just nodded, astonished.

"Now be quiet and listen to me," she went on, sniffing. "We are about to face a huge challenge. We are going to risk our lives. But we know what we are heading into, and we so far have accepted it. But that doesn't mean we will risk somebody else's life. We want to join you because we are your friends, do you understand that? We _want_ to be with you in this, because we _are_ friends and we _help_ each other. But Ginny . . . I admit she is strong and with skills, but . . . She is underage."

"Is that the only reason?" Harry slowly said. "Is one year a long way to go? If she doesn't join us now, she'll do when she turns of age. She will find a way."

Hermione stared at him as if she wanted to slap him again.

"Does she know that you are planning to take her along with us?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry said. He couldn't hide that, for they could go and ask Ginny herself.

"And what's her view on it?" she asked next.

Harry thought on the recent events. Ginny's sad face floated past. _I need time to think things over_, she had said. So, Harry thought, she was regretting it, as he had feared.

"She doesn't really want to go," he muttered. Then added, hastily: "Sorry. You were right. I won't mention it again."

Hermione slowly sat down back on the mattress. Ron kept his amazed eyes on her.

"Don't you say that to make me feel better," she whispered. "Harry, I want you to promise that you won't take her with us."

"Isn't that too much?" he asked, feeling slightly irked again. "You don't have the right to say what can people do."

"I can simply go and tell Mrs. Weasley," she added.

There was a long, thick silence after her declaration. Harry felt greatly insulted. He wouldn't have expected such a reaction from one of his best friends. But of course, Hermione would attach to the rules as much as she could, and that was the way she was.

But anyway, what could she probably know? How could she realize? He was planning to leave them behind, but just for a bit and only to escape with Ginny. Once they were together again, Harry knew, the argument would start over, perhaps more intensely than recently.

But Ginny's scared face floated past again, and all he could tell was she was heavily doubting her decision.

Harry closed his eyes, only to avoid the tears.

"Very well," he whispered. "I promise I won't take her with us . . ."

Hermione sighed in relief. Ron didn't say a world. He was probably lost in his own thoughts on the topic.

–**o–**

**N**ot even Hagrid's arrival had cheered Harry enough. Both his half–giant friend and Madame Maxime, Headmisstress of Beauxbatons, had arrived to attend at the wedding, each one invited by each of the families.

Madame Maxime was also a half–giant: a beautiful olive–tanned woman with dignity and pride written all over her. Hagrid and Maxime had arrived in the latter's flying chariot, as huge as a house and pulled by a dozen beautiful winged horses. They arrived right before noon, while Mrs. Weasley was attempting to set the table while dealing with Nymphadora Tonks' need to help.

"Oi, Harry!" Hagrid approached his friend and gave him a friendly pat on his back, making him fall flat on the backyard's grass. "How yer doin'? McGonagall reckons you've done good. An' . . ." he bent down and whispered in a conspirator fashion " . . . An' I brought him with us. Just as yer asked me. He's in ter chariot. Olympe wasn't so glad to have him there, but . . . I thought he would want ter be transported for once."

Harry had forgotten the request he had made to Hagrid. What with his broken dreams and the chat he had previously had with his friends. Still, he would keep his plans standing, even if that meant leaving all alone. Just as the Order expected, really.

"Thanks, Hagrid," he said. His huge friend gazed at him.

"Yer okay? Yer look like . . . dunno, not good."

"Don't worry about me. I've been worse," Harry lied.

"Okay, then. Want ter see him? He would be delighted ter see yer again!" beamed Hagrid.

"Well . . . Why not."

Hagrid guided Harry to the giant chariot, from which strange sounds of scraping could be heard. Hagrid opened the door and leaned inside, talking to another person.

"We're here, at last! Wasn't that a nice flight? So good ter rest yer wings for a bit and let others do the flyin' instead, inni't true? Now come, I have someone who wants ter see yer again . . ."

Slowly, Hagrid pulled back and a creature appeared from inside the chariot. His body was an eagle head, wings, and front legs, his horse back, his gleaming orange and inquisitive eyes and, most important, his air of utmost elegance.

Buckbeak the hippogriff.

He gave an annoyed cry as he descended. Obviously he hadn't coped with the idea of letting someone else handle the flying. Hagrid stopped him just in front of Harry so he could stare fixedly into Buckbeak's orange eye as he carefully bowed. Harry was glad to see the hippogriff bow in response much quicker than he recalled.

"He realized now he's yer's" smiled Hagrid. "After all, well, Sirius left him ter you."

"But I gave him to Sirius," said Harry, approaching and stroking Buckbeak's feathery neck. "It's strange, but . . . in a way, I sort of stole from you."

Hagrid laughed. "Now, don't be foolish! The moment I heard the true story 'bout Sirius and his escape I agreed givin' Buckbeak ter him. He's legally yers, Harry."

Harry stared at Buckbeak's eye and stroked a bit more of his neck. _His_. Harry _owned_ a magnificent magical creature. Had he ever realized this fact? He also owned a house. And a whole vault in Gringotts held a fortune in gold, all _his_. And also a house–elf was working under his orders. No, two house–elves, since Dobby would be thrilled to obey any of Harry Potter's orders. That surely annoyed Kreacher.

Harry's hand stopped stroking.

A cold, nasty shiver began to creep up his spine.

He had never really thought on that. He had never really realized the extent of his belongings, especially in the past year. Harry was not a materialist person: the Dursleys had never taught him to expect much glory from money, since they never gave Harry any. Thus, he had learned to find happiness in those things money just couldn't buy, like a night full of stars, the dawning sun, and those dreams and hopes that for so many years had kept him alive.

He didn't really want all he owned. He felt he could easily exchange it all for one single person. But to offer money for Ginny Weasley was a nasty vision. People couldn't be bought, especially loved ones.

He stared back at the Burrow. That night he would depart and leave it all behind. Only by destroying Voldemort he would ever return, he felt it that way, and so he might have been living the very last hours of his entire life in the only house he ever felt at home in.

A mournful feeling choked his throat. What the hell; if there was anybody in this world who deserved gratification, it was the Weasley family.

"I'm glad to see Buckbeak again, Hagrid," Harry slowly whispered, "but right now I need to write a letter, if you don't mind. A very important letter."

–**o–**

**G**uests kept coming in during lunch and afternoon. Lupin Apparated only to be knocked back by Tonks, who hugged him and brought a strange pigment to his pale face. It seemed that Remus Lupin still found it difficult to be with her when there was another person around, not to mention a friend's relatives.

Bill had invited everybody from the Order, except for Kinsgley Shacklebolt, who kept working for the Muggle Prime Minister, and Severus Snape, for more than obvious reasons. Dedalus Diggle arrived by the Knight Bus, along with Arabella Figg and other members of the Order.

"I had to take the Knight Bus, since I couldn't perform any magic, you know," said Mrs. Figg to Harry after she greeted him. "How are you doing, Harry, dear?"

It was so strange for Harry to speak again with Mrs. Figg. For so many years he had considered her just a normal old—rather eccentric—woman, when in fact she had been a Squib all the time.

"Just normal," replied Harry, and curiosity won over him. "How're my uncle and aunt? Did you see them?"

"Oh, they're fine. They appear to want to make clear you never really lived there," she grimly grinned.

"Wouldn't be surprised," admitted Harry.

Pierre Delacour, Fleur's father, explained via the translations of his daughter that their guests should be arriving in a matter of hours, precisely one hour before the beginning of the ceremony in fact. That was Mrs. Weasley's cue to renew her reign of terror and enslave everybody around to help her in cleaning up the backyard and assembling a nice place for the wedding.

Just who could resist Molly Weasley's invitation? Only the Delacours, and just because they were the main guests. The rest of them were rapidly put to work, most of them willing to help while others just complained.

Just like Ron was doing.

"—truly hope this ends quick. Work, work, work, this never ends, really," he muttered under his breath while he attempted to conjure folding chairs out of nowhere. "How can you do that so easily?" he snapped at Hermione, who was flicking her wand and producing fancy results.

"I don't complain, and so I can focus entirely on the chairs," she just said, arranging the newly generated seats and attempting some more. "If you don't want to bring chairs, then help Harry with those paper streamers."

Harry was next to them, aiming his wand and yelling the _Cintas_ spell. He had managed to keep the desired color despite the feelings within him. Ron stared at him and recalled his green tulips. Watching the Twins approach, he rejected the idea and focused on the folding chairs. He managed to conjure a little stool.

"That would be a great seat for Pidwidgeon," smiled Fred.

"If he ever had a seat, of course," smiled George.

"Don't you two have things to do?" muttered Ron.

"We certainly have," the Twins nodded. "And right now we have to talk to Harry."

"In private," added George. "Can you come with us, Harry? Just for a moment."

Harry exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione and shrugged. Then he followed the Twins past Hagrid and Olympe (she was conjuring marble pillars with a complicated spell and Hagrid was one–handedly picking them up and arranging them) and headed to the back of the house, next to the chicken coop where, that very same morning, Harry had had his last words with Ginny.

"Nobody around?" asked George.

"None that I can see," said Fred, peeking over his shoulder. "Hopefully Moody won't return from his patrol so soon. I don't trust that magical eye."

"What are you two up to?" Harry asked, his curiosity growing bigger.

"Ahh, yes," Fred went on, now adopting a business–like tone. "Harry, Harry, dear Harry . . . _How could you!_"

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"How could you hide it from us!" said George.

"What are you—?"

"Well! We reckon you will be going to a picnic trip with Ron and Hermione, then," smiled George.

"Unless, of course, our infallible Extendable Ears are working the wrong way," grinned Fred.

"Which they're not," winked George.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

"You mean you heard—?"

"Well, you were yelling so hard—"

"—we just couldn't help to wonder—"

"—what had made you express your opinions so politely clear," they finished.

"So you just crept upstairs to find out?" he asked, not avoiding a smirk.

"What do you think?" Fred grinned. "Now, what's that Hermione talking about? Risking your lives and everything."

Harry felt he couldn't lie to the Twins. Fred and George had in the past demonstrated they were excellent friends, so he told them the basic points of the story, containing the Horcruxes and his plans to find and destroy them. He also told them of the way Ron and Hermione wanted to join him.

He would have expected a more serious reaction, though.

"Blimey, that would be some adventure!" George beamed.

"I don't think this is some fancy game," Harry warned. "It's more of the Life–Or–Death proportions, see."

"Harry, Harry, don't you think we are not worried," Fred picked up next. "But hey, who says you all won't be in the same danger staying in one same place?"

"Yes, in times of crisis you have to move!" George resumed. "So . . ."

Each Twin produced a briefcase from behind their back and flipped them open. Harry approached a bit and stared at their contents. There were strange bottles and gizmos in there.

"What is—?"

"This is, Harry, our friend, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—"

"—new and improved—"

"—Protection Section!" ended George.

"And that means . . . _what_, exactly?" asked Harry.

"That means we offer to you—"

"—no charge, of course—"

"—our newest and more advanced findings on the branch of Defense Against Dark Arts items and accessories. If you go out on an errand against You–Know–Who, then we would be proud that you finish him with a little aid from You–Know–Us," Fred winked.

"For instance, look at this," George took a large jeweler lens and placed it in his eye. It looked as if a small telescope would be sticking from his head.

"So you look funny, huh?" Harry smirked.

"I look funny, yes, but you look suspicious," grinned George. He removed the lens and handed it to Harry. "You try."

Harry had to take his glasses to put it on, and he was amazed to look through the jeweler lens. Fred and George were surrounded by a purplish aura.

"_Aura Antics Acknowledger_," Fred widely smiled. "They show an Aura around people with the color of their intentions. Here, look at the color chart," he handed Harry a parchment with a list of colors. Purple meant _"Very sly and helpful, you should trust him/her"_.

"Wow. Yes, this could come in handy," said Harry, taking the Aura Antics back and replacing his glasses.

"We based it on the Sneakoscope, see," said George while exploring the contents of his briefcase. "Now, check _this_ out . . ."

Harry was given to try a series of amazing devices. There was one small bag of sugar cubes which, the Twins claimed, had a slight amount of Veritaserum added, so to trick a suspicious character during a nice tea–time. They also showed him a few magical rings and necklaces that could deviate some minor jinxes and also cast special protections on the bearer. There was also a collection of flare wands (better than _Lumos_, only they burned down after use) and Cloaking Creams.

"Based on Canary Creams," grinned George. "Only these make you temporary invisible. Not as good as an Invisibility Clock, of course, but handy if you are in a hurry. You'll have around five or so minutes after eating one, but don't have too many in a row."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"Stomachache," said Fred, wincing in memory. "_Severe_ stomachache."

Next they showed the rest of their stuff, and it was amazing. Harry thanked them deeply and couldn't explain in words how in debt he felt; the twins each raised a hand.

"No, no, Harry. We are still in debt with you."

"Yes, I'd say we are nearly five hundred, eighty–nine Galleons and five Sickles in debt," George smiled.

"But there is something we would seriously like to talk with you," said Fred next, and in a strange, serious tone. "Ginny."

Harry's smile vanished. "What about her?"

"Extendible Ears, Harry. Now, spit it out."

Harry groaned, but he felt he couldn't refuse. He admitted their wish to leave alone and he emphasized Ginny's unbendable determination to stick with him all the way.

"That's our little sister," said Fred, a tone of odd sadness. "Stubborn and resolved. Got it from mum, you see. Only she mixed it with our cunning mischievousness."

"Well, mum admitted she once got caught out of bed when she was at Hogwarts, remember?" George smiled a bit. "Walking out with dad, you see."

"Oh, yes, you are right."

"But anyway, Harry . . . what can we say?" sighed George. "We only hope you two take care of each other, really."

"Pardon me?" Harry blinked. "She's not coming. I already told you about this morning—"

"Aahh, Harry, Harry . . . You just forgot—"

"—that she also inherited our cunning mischievousness," they said, and winked at Harry.

–**o–**

**W**hatever Fred and George meant in their chat with Harry, he couldn't understand it. Ginny was genuinely sad, that morning, and they hadn't spoken since then. He was glad the Twins had such an open mind about the subject, but at that moment he felt they were a bit innocent; such as strange as the word "innocent" may look related to them.

Hagrid introduced Buckbeak to the guests in general, but making sure to keep a prudent distance between one and the others. Most of them, having visited number twelve, Grimmauld Place, had already met the creature, but others (the Delacours included) were amazed and astonished at the view.

"Jus' stare in his eye an' don't blink. Then bow at him. Treat him with respect and so will he," Hagrid said to Pierre and Monique Delacour. Next to him, Madame Maxime translated to French. Harry watched at the distance how Fleur's parents bowed respectfully at Buckbeak, and was relieved to see Buckbeak bowing at them.

Next to Harry, still setting up the reception area, Ron and Hermione also stared at the group around Hagrid.

"Hagrid told me he was planning to bring Grawp," muttered Ron.

"How good he realized how bad would that have been," whispered Hermione.

"Actually . . . Grawp didn't want to come. Otherwise . . ." Ron trailed off, but it was clear that the three of them were thinking the same thing: Hagrid's Giant half–brother attending Fleur's wedding. Fred and George would have given their right hands just to see that.

"But he brought Buckbeak," said Hermione, a tang of suspicious in her voice. "How . . . nice of him. Isn't that true, Harry?"

Harry had no way to avoid that tone. "Perhaps," he said.

"Buckbeak won't be able to carry the three of us," Hermione went on, her razor–sharp logics butting in. "Considering our current sizes, I'd say he could only carry two at a time."

Harry had had enough. "Very well. I _was_ planning to fly away with Ginny, but that's history, okay? Cut it out, Hermione. Please. I already promised I wouldn't."

Hermione said nothing else, neither did Ron. Harry thought he had said too much, for now his friends were aware he was planning to leave them behind. Instead, he focused on the arrangements for the wedding. That was enough work and distraction.

Harry stared longingly at the Burrow. He had seen Ginny walk in about an hour ago, accompanied by Gabrielle, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley. They were talking about trying on some dresses, which would be a hard battle to combine both Fleur and Mrs. Weasley's preferences.

As the time of his farewell approached closer, Harry began to panic. Sometimes his mind blurred from work and landed on strange worlds within his thoughts. He saw himself fighting Voldemort in a fierce battle. Ginny appeared out from nowhere and jumped into Harry's arms the moment Voldemort fell back, defeated.

"Harry!"

"Oi!"

Mr. Weasley had just brought Harry back to reality.

"Harry, look at that! It's incredible!" Mr. Weasley said.

Harry noticed everybody was looking at the sky, some of them pointing with his fingers and shouting excitedly. Harry looked up and gasped.

_Dragons_.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Five dragons.

At first he panicked, but he suddenly noticed the way they were flying. The dragons formed a large V and were lead by a team of broom riders. The dragons turned and spun and formed new shapes in mid–air, then blasted roars of fire and flew close to the ground. When they did this, Harry caught the face of the main broom rider, and he didn't need Bill's shout of glee to recognize the man on the broom.

"Charlie!" Bill yelled in happiness. "Charlie, you big dragon–breathed fool!"

Charlie waved a hand as he blurred past and immediately headed up. The rest of the riders and the dragons followed. Then he made them perform a most stunning set of airborne maneuvers that made some of the guest hold their breaths. Harry looked around to see their amazed faces. He had never seen Hagrid smiling so widely. Then he turned his eyes to the Burrow.

His mind went into oblivion. There she was, standing close to the Burrow's main door and looking up with a smile. Ginny Weasley, wearing part of a stunning pale gold dress she was sure to use during the wedding. She had her hair rolled up in a bunch very similar to McGonagall's, only it looked extremely good on her. Harry felt his heart melt at the sight of her. So what if a pack of fire–breathing dragons were flying right over his head? He only had eyes for Ginny Weasley.

She noticed his gaze and slowly looked at him. Their eyes met, and even though the distance there was a tight connection between one and the other.

"_Whoa!_" many screamed, breaking the fragile connection. Harry looked up in reaction, but he just saw five dragons forming a large ring of scales. When he looked back at Ginny, she had disappeared into the house.

A bit annoyed and greatly disappointed, he forced his eyes back up to the dragons. Despite that the show was incredible, he was no longer in the mood to watch.

Another of the broom riders took Charlie's place as he dived toward the expecting crowd. The dragons formed a new pattern and began to follow the other riders to a place away from the people.

"Harry! Good to see you!" Charlie said, landing smoothly. "How did you like the show?"

"You prat! You did bring a pack of dragons!" yelled Ron, looking halfway to a heart attack, but sounding amazed and happy.

Charlie was received with several pats on the back and many compliments for the unbelievable show. Mrs. Weasley made her way to her son and squished him in a tight hug, but then she pulled hard on his ear.

"_What_ did I tell you about bringing such dangerous things here?" she roared, though she smiled all the way.

"Harry, Harry, look!" Hagrid called. "Yer won't believe this! I am so happy . . .!"

If Hagrid was happy, Harry thought, it shouldn't bode any good.

"It's Norbert! Harry, it's _Norbert_!" Hagrid said.

That was enough for Harry's curiosity. He turned and saw Hagrid running toward the pack of dragons. He noticed the leader of the formation was, indeed, very similar to the dragon Hagrid had briefly had during Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Only much... _much_ bigger.

Charlie, however, confirmed that the teddy–bear–eating hatchling and the lead dragon were the same creature.

"Yes, that's Norbert," he said later on. "Thought Hagrid would like to see him again. Ah, don't worry, mum, my friends will escort the dragons back in a few minutes. I just wanted to shock my brother before his wedding."

The dragons left half an hour after they arrived. They would have left quicker, but Charlie had to help his friends detach Hagrid from Norbert's jaws. Or vice versa.

"He remembered me!" Hagrid would said within tears. "He even kissed me good–bye and everything . . . He's such a good dragon . . ."

With Hagrid's promise to Norbert of going to visit him in Romania, he waved at them and then they were gone. Olympe helped Hagrid to sweep away some lost tears and then things calmed down greatly.

–**o–**

**I**t was one hour before the wedding started. The sun would start going down by then. A romantic sunset wedding, so Fleur had called it. The backyard of the Burrow was unrecognizable, free of trash and everything.

The guests of the Delacour side began to Apparate and arrive in other ways. Most of them used Portkeys and materialized within _'CRIME SCENES'_. Mrs. Weasley had told her husband not to do it again, but it had been too much of a temptation for him.

"But I just had so much tape remaining! Why waste it!" he claimed.

Fleur's guests were totally different from any of Bill's. There was French in the air that mixed with English. Mrs. Weasley hoped the different languages wouldn't mess up the moment of the Vows. Harry caught Hermione exchanging some words with several of the French guests. It seemed she had learned part of the language in that old vacation trip to France.

Mrs. Weasley ordered everybody to get showered and dressed for the event. She was so tense nobody in his right mind would have ever thought on disobeying, not even the Twins.

Once showered and dressed with his dress robe, Harry climbed down to the kitchen on time to catch the conversation Auntie Muriel was having with Mrs. Weasley and Fleur.

"—you will do fine, believe me, dear," Muriel said. Harry spotted Fleur wearing a breath–taking white bride dress. If she wasn't using her Veela powers in that moment, then Harry didn't want to think what had just crossed through his mind like a white–hot iron bar.

"I am so nervous," Fleur stuttered. "T–Thank you for the beeaut'ful tiara. It's so nice of you . . ."

"My pleasure," Muriel nodded. "You sure you can handle that, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley was dealing with some last–minute additions to Fleur's dress. "Of course I can. I just need those pins in the right place and . . . here . . ."

Harry walked past them unnoticed, but he did catch two pairs of eyes staring at him as he opened the door. By the corner of his eye he saw both Gabrielle and Ginny gazing at him.

It was strange to see little Gabrielle softly blushing, but Harry's sight focused on Ginny. Was she sad? Was she happy? He couldn't tell. There was a gentle gleam in her eyes.

He placed a hand on the doorknob and stopped under the doorframe. He turned his head at both girls. Gabrielle gave a little giggle, but Ginny remained motionless.

He fixed his eyes in hers. She fixed her eyes in his.

Was she sad?

Was she happy?

Harry couldn't tell.

"Y–You look good," he whispered, a fact given she was now wearing the full dress.

"Thanks," she softly whispered. Harry saw her vaguely biting her lower lip. "You . . . too."

Harry nodded and, not really knowing what else to add, resumed his path and closed the door after him, feeling a horrible weight growing larger within his soul.

The ambience outside was of sheer expectation. The backyard was illuminated by tall torches and glowing fairies flying everywhere. It looked like the most romantic scene for a confession of love. A long, red carpet had been extended along the path to the improvised altar where the Vows would be said. At both sides of the carpet, rows of folding chairs had been arranged, ending each row in a beautiful marble pillar, the same ones conjured by Madame Maxime and all of them illuminated by hanging candles and torches.

Charlie came over to pat Harry on the back.

"Magnificent evening, really. The sun's starting to go down. Soon all these lights will prove themselves. How're you feeling, Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry muttered his lie. He was happy for the whole wedding thing, but his recent words with Ginny brought him down a bit. "When will it start?"

"Oh, as soon as the Bonder from the Ministry arrives," said Charlie in a casual tone. "The Ministry is responsible of every marriage between wizards, see, so they provide the Bonders in order to keep track of most of the cases." He then smirked. "I'm Bill's Best Man, by the way. And mum has to Entrust him to Fleur. Wouldn't miss that for anything."

Harry nodded and looked around, not sure what to do or how to keep there. He was feeling very nervous, he wasn't sure why.

"I don't think this is suggestive at all," said a panicky voice nearby. Harry turned to see Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks in a dialogue. He was wearing what could be called his most luxurious dress robe, given the fact of the average quality of any of Remus Lupin's wardrobe items. Tonks was wearing a fetching light pink dress that matched her hair perfectly. "So it's a wedding, what of it?" Lupin said, using an avoiding tone Harry found rather amusing.

"Well, think of the future. You, me, and a Bonder," smiled Tonks, who was also finding Lupin amusing.

Remus seemed to choke. "Isn't this a bit too . . . hasty?" and Harry could sense the quiver in his voice.

"Oh, if you think you can hold me back until you get _'too old'_ for me, then you are dead wrong. I'm following you to the grave, I am," smiled Tonks.

Harry felt strangely cheered at those words. Lupin gasped in disbelief, but it was obvious he felt flattered. So Tonks wanted to be with him, no matter if she was much younger. And she was resolved to die for him, it seemed. Harry had never met such courage and—

But he _had_.

Ginny was like Tonks in that sense. So was Harry like Lupin.

That nasty shiver crept up Harry's spine one more time. His mind was playing tricks on him, so he began to walk aimlessly around the backyard, greeting some random guests and trying hard not to think on Ginny in the way he kept thinking. So good for Tonks and Lupin, but they both were adults. Not like his situation at all.

"—seen you staring at Fleur's best friend all the time!" protested a female voice Harry recognized as Hermione's. He turned and spotted her talking to Ron, both dressed elegantly. However, Ron seemed fearful.

"Look, 'Mione, if you haven't noticed, she is quite stunning and—" Ron tried, but it was obvious even for Harry that it had just ignited the fuse.

"You are such a superficial creep!" Hermione said in a tight whisper. Harry slunk behind a couple of French guests who weren't following the argument, and began to hear more clearly.

"I am not superficial!" Ron defended himself.

"Yes, you are! First Fleur, then Gabrielle, now Fleur's friend!"

"Oh, excuse me! Viktor Krum, anyone? Or you rather prefer Gilderoy Lockhart? Yeah, _he_ was smart and that's why you liked him, didn't you?"

Hermione turned red. "That was—I didn't—!" She breathed deeply a few times, then retorted: "I had young day–dreams with Lockhart, very well, but I dumped Krum when we realized we didn't really have much in common. What can you say about yourself, _Won–Won_?"

It was Ron's turn to become red. "When will you quit reminding me of Lavender?" he nastily said.

"What's the matter, she still hops into your dreams?" Hermione attacked. "Maybe she could take my place and lecture you about not being such a prat and—"

"_She can not replace you!_" Ron shouted. One second after he said that, both he and Hermione remained quiet.

"W–What?" she said.

Ron shifted uneasily. "Right, so . . . Listen . . ." He sighed and looked down. His shoes suddenly seemed most interesting all of a sudden. "Listen . . . I'm sorry. I just lost it, okay? But she can not replace you. No one can. You can't possibly be replaced. Not even by Fleur. She has her beauty, fine. But you . . . What can I say . . ."

"Just say the truth . . ."

Ron's head slowly rose at the gentle sound of Hermione's words. Harry saw, after moving around a bit, that Hermione's eyes were sparkling.

"Well . . ." Ron hesitated. "Well . . . You are smart. I give you that." He paused. "You are very smart. Actually, I don't think I ever met anyone smarter than you. And . . ." He looked back. Harry was keen to hide behind a nearby pillar before Ron could meet his eye. "And . . . and you are noble. You can clearly recognize what's good and what's bad and, well, despite sometimes you are _really_ annoying at pointing that out . . . besides you sometimes _really_ get on my nerves when you get all chatty and blabby about the correct use of this or that spell . . . I really think I'd prefer that annoyance rather than just plain beauty. I don't know if you—"

But Ron's words were interrupted by a hand placing on his shoulder and slowly making him turn to face a pair of female eyes and a quivering lip. They didn't need to share words while they kissed, they didn't even try.

Harry stared at them for a moment, then slowly retreated and resumed walking. All around him people where talking and having a good time. He looked over his shoulder and stared at Ron and Hermione. Then he looked away toward Lupin and Tonks, now holding hands and looking at the half–moon appearing on the incoming night. Harry gulped and looked away, now in Hagrid and Madame Maxime's direction, only to find they were also together, talking cheerfully.

Everywhere Harry looked, a happy couple could be spotted. And every newly discovered pair made Harry feel more and more lonely, totally cast away and ignored. The happy giggles weren't for him, neither the hugs nor kisses. As he looked around, he felt himself an intruder in such a happy place.

The world could be a nasty place, sometimes . . .

–**o–**

(To Be Continued...)


	4. Wings of Freedom

–**o–**

**Chapter Four  
Wings of Freedom**

**T**here was a cheer and a round of greetings when a tall and tired–looking wizard was seen approaching from the distance. Mr. Weasley recognized him as the Bonder assigned to the wedding, and it was about time: the sun had almost reached dusk.

People began to move hastily, getting ready for the big event. Bill approached Charlie and soon Mrs. Weasley joined in, wearing a nice dress that didn't match her hair at all. Harry wondered if it was on purpose.

"She's ready," said Mrs. Weasley in an excited whisper. "Oh, Bill, you look so handsome . . . My little boy is getting married . . ."

"Come on now, mum," Bill smiled. "It's time already."

"Yes, it is," Mrs. Weasley said, her hand clutching a handkerchief and moping her eyes. "This will be such a beautiful wedding . . ."

McGonagall explained that Mad–Eye Moody would be in charge of the security during the wedding. The Bonder assigned by the Ministry, Demetrio Halffreckle, had brought four Aurors who would take Moody's orders out of respect for his past work. Harry saw them walk away and spread out around the Burrow.

"Come, Harry, we have a special seat for you," said George, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him toward the rows of chairs.

"Right, we don't want you to miss anything at all," beamed Fred.

"I can walk by myself!" Harry protested.

"Oh, don't be a crybaby, now sit!"

The Twins led Harry to an empty chair in the second row. He was forced to sit next to one of the pillars, separated by one empty chair no one seemed to want to occupy. Harry noticed the Twins had taken chairs to Harry's right rather hastily, as if making sure no one would take those seats. There was no need, really, for Harry saw Ron and Hermione sitting together on the far right side of the row, apparently forgetting him.

The empty chair between Harry and the pillar remained empty. Twice it was attempted to be used, but the people trying to sit on it had to leave in a hurry. First it was Dedalus Diggle, who yelped and recalled he had to do something important (although he walked aimlessly for a while before picking an empty seat on the fifth row). Second was Mrs. Figg, who was thrilled to have seat next to Harry until she jumped up and said something about feeding the cats (which she hadn't brought with her) and left in a hurry, only to return moments later and take a seat on the third row. Harry noticed the Twins muffled their laugh at both cases.

"Did you do something to that chair?" Harry said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Who, us?" George grinned.

"Search us," smiled Fred.

But before Harry could say anything else, Demetrio Halffreckle ordered silence and everybody got quiet. The tension and excitement in the air could be cut with a knife.

"Now, now, please," said Halffreckle, and then repeated it, only in French. "We are just about to perform the ceremony of Bonding," he added, switching to French next and repeating the message.

Everybody made sure to keep in place and wait. The sun was just setting on the horizon. Above their heads, the sky fought a lost battle against night, whose dark tones and bright stars were beginning to shine.

Harry saw Mr. Weasley exchange some words with the Bonder, so did Monique Delacour. It seemed like Demetrio Halffreckle was playing the interpreter. Then they bowed and returned to their seats.

Silence grew louder as the Bonder stood on top of the altar and coughed.

"We are here tonight to witness the Bonding of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour under the laws of the Ministry of Magic and the Vows the marrying couple shall speak," said Halffreckle, switching to French and repeating. "I ask the groom to approach to the altar."

Everybody turned their heads to the end of the carpet, where Bill stood still with Mrs. Weasley holding his arm. Behind them was Charlie as they began to walk. All the heads followed them like a sunflower followed the sun. Once they reached the end of the carpet, the Bonder spoke:

"Are you Mr. Bill Weasley, the groom?" he asked. Bill nodded. "Are you Mrs. Molly Weasley, the Entruster?" he asked next, and Mrs. Weasley nodded in an attempt to hold her tears. "Are you Mr. Charlie Weasley, the Best Man?" he finished, nodding at Charlie's confirmation. "Very well. Now, I ask the bride to approach to the altar, please."

While he repeated it in French, half of the guests, Harry included, had turned their heads to the end of the carpet.

Fleur was there. She was radiant. The tiara on her head matched her hair and dress color, and she wore an intense smile with blinding white teeth. Next to her, holding her arm was Pierre Delacour, and behind them was another woman Harry had seen moments ago and who was surely Fleur's Maid of Honor. Behind them all were Gabrielle and Ginny, each of them holding a straw basket with white flowers. As they began to march, Gabrielle and Ginny tossed their flowers at their respective sides. Gabrielle looked astonishingly proud of herself, but Ginny smiled as if she was having an inner war of feelings.

Once they arrived at the altar, Demetrio Halffreckle went on.

"Are you Miss Fleur Delacour, the bride?" he asked. Fleur nodded. "Are you Mr. Pierre Delacour, the Entruster?" Mr. Delacour nodded. "Are you Miss Janice Voudieur, the Maid of Honor?" The woman identified as Janice nodded. "Very well, then," said Halffreckle, "the bridesmaids may be dismissed."

As he said this, Ginny and Gabrielle moved to their respective sides. Gabrielle was seated next to her mother in the first row of the Delacour side, but Ginny walked straight to the empty seat next to Harry.

"Don't sit there, I think it's—" Harry whispered, but Ginny ignored him and just sat on the chair. She didn't met his eye and, after a moment or two of no reactions, Harry felt there was more than a simple joke spell cast on that chair.

"The Entrusters may let them go," said the Bonder, making Harry focus on the wedding once again.

Pierre Delacour released his daughter's arm at once, but it seemed to everybody that Mrs. Weasley had gripped harder on her son's.

"Mum, you can release it now . . ." muttered Bill out of the corner of his mouth. Mrs. Weasley gave a little whimper and gripped harder. Most of the guests, both French and English ones, held their breaths. "_Please_ . . ." Bill whispered, and Mrs. Weasley slowly released him, sniffing loudly as she did.

There was a very soft whisper of relief from some of the Weasley guests. Harry heard Fred whisper to George "Blimey, you were right. I owe you five Galleons . . ."

"As you know," said Demetrio Halffreckle, "the Bonding consists of the enunciation of the Vows, which will work as promises of the soul for your married life together. These Vows are meant to be spoken from deep within, and the Bonding will _not_ work unless the feelings put upon such important words are true. Now, in order to announce your respective Vows and Bond you, I ask Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour to hold hands, please."

They all saw how Bill and Fleur turned, facing each other, and held hands tightly together and at the height of their chests.

Harry gasped. There was something on his own left hand. He turned his attention to it and got a surprise. Ginny's hand was gripping on his.

He stared at her face. She had turned her shiny eyes to his, and from the closeness Harry noticed her quivering lip. She squeezed her hand in a way that made Harry witness incredible worlds of fantasy and endless happiness.

"Fleur Delacour," said the Bonder, "we would like to hear your words."

Harry heard Fleur starting to speak. She was saying something like "Do you promise, Harry, to love me and—"

_ . . . did she say _'Harry'

Harry's mind went into shock. He wasn't listening to Fleur's words. He was listening to _Ginny's_. He saw her trembling lips vaguely moving at the sound of her words. He vaguely wondered when had his other hand held and squeezed her free one. He could only listen to her words, which echoed in his mind . . .

"—protect me from all harm, to take care of me, in riches and poverty, in health and illness, on behalf of Merlin's Blessing, from now on until death separates us?"

She finished at the same time Fleur finished his question and, at the same time Bill said it, Harry stuttered and mindlessly whispered, "_I do._"

Everybody gasped as a tongue of golden fire surrounded Bill and Fleur's held hands, but nobody except Harry and Ginny noticed the gentle yellow sparks and the thin lick of golden fire surrounding theirs. Harry stared down at their hands and was suddenly aware of what he was getting into.

He shot his wide eyes at Ginny's face, and not only found a genuine and heartwarming smile greeting him beyond the trembles and quivers, but also a pair of loving eyes who shone with happiness as teardrops began to come from them and roll down her blushed cheeks.

And Harry was lost in a pink, soft cloud; everything and everyone else seemed obtuse and distant. He knew in that moment all he really wanted to do was be with her, holding hands forever, never taking his eyes from hers, kissing her lips with passion for all eternity and sharing not only his pain and his happiness with her, but also his mind, body, soul, and heart.

He heard Bill beginning to intone his question. He stared at Ginny's pleading eyes. And he then knew what he had to do.

Mrs. Weasley was going to _kill_ him . . . She would scream, she would yell, she would threaten him with her wand, and then she would just _kill_ him.

"Do you, Ginny," Harry softly whispered, "promise to be true and stay with me in any situation, no matter how bad, no matter how frightening, and to help me remember at all time all the much I love you and how much I'd have regretted leaving you behind, in good and in bad times, from now on . . . until death separates us."

As in a synchronized speech, Harry also finished his words at the same time Bill finished his; and when Fleur opened her mouth to reply, Harry could only hear Ginny saying: "And beyond death, Harry. I would. _I do_."

A new, louder gasp came from the guests as a second tongue of golden fire surrounded Bill and Fleur's hands. Harry and Ginny's hands were blessed by more golden sparkles and a thin golden stream of their own.

"Then, by the powers given to me by the Ministry of Magic, and under Merlin's Blessing, I therefore declare you _husband and wife_," finished Halffreckle. "You may kiss the bride."

Bill and Fleur kissed deeply under the sight of every person at the backyard except for Harry and Ginny, who only had eyes and lips for each other. From above the din of happy relatives cheering the just married couple in two simultaneous languages, they could hear Fleur's cries of happiness: "Oh _my_! You can now address me as Mrs. Fleur Weasley!"

And when Harry and Ginny separated from their kiss and stared deeply into their eyes, she said, between blissful sobs: "And you can call me Mrs. Ginevra Potter . . ."

Harry laughed. It was the careless laugh of a man who knows he is the happiest person in the universe. And he had no remorse in kissing Ginny one more time.

–**o–**

**P**eople chatted and laughed, feasted and drank, smiled and grinned during the reception party. With a simultaneous flip of several wands the rows of folding chairs moved aside, the red carpet rolled back and dozens of small, round tables with fancy white tablecloths and several trays of assorted food and drink popped in from thin air.

The guests began to spread around, starting random conversations and having a good time.

"Oi! Ah! Quit it, you two!" Harry complained, though smiling.

The Twins were tossing handfuls of dried rice onto Harry and Ginny, who were still holding hands.

"Isn't that for Muggle weddings?" Ginny giggled, half–covering her face with her free arm.

"Oh, don't spoil it for us! We have a legal opportunity to toss food at people and we plan to use it wisely!" said Fred.

"Well, maybe not too wisely," corrected George.

"Be quiet!" Harry whispered. He wished he could at least stop grinning. "And by the way . . . You planned all that? You know . . ."

"Harry, Harry, Harry, what did we tell you some hours back?" George grinned.

"Ginny inherited our cunning mischievousness," nodded Fred.

Harry stared at Ginny. He didn't feel bad about it.

"_Your_ idea, then?" he asked.

Ginny's cheeks blushed pink. It matched the beauty of her hair . . . and her wide smile.

"I had to . . . I had to make sure. I mean . . . I'm sorry for this morning at the chicken coop. I just couldn't sleep last night, what with all my thoughts and everything. And I just . . . I meant to make sure our love was going to last. Otherwise, the Bonding wouldn't have worked at all."

"And you two—?" Harry turned to the Twins.

"We loved the idea," they said at once. "So, have a very warm and rice–full welcome to the family!"

"Isn't that _'rightful'_?"

"Nope. It's _RICE_–full!" they grinned, doubling the amount of rice they were throwing.

"Quit it!" Ginny laughed. "You can also do that to Bill and Fleur!"

"Oh! Why hadn't we thought on that?" Fred seemed shocked. "And we just ran out of rice. Pity."

Harry and Ginny stared at each other, smiled broadly, and kissed again.

"_Oh!_"

They jumped back and turned. Mrs. Weasley had just spotted them. Her eyes were watery and her smile was proof of how good she found the sight of her daughter in the arms of Harry Potter had been.

"Ah . . . Umm . . . Mum . . ." Ginny stuttered, but Mrs. Weasley waved her hands hurriedly.

"Oh, no, _no_, please don't mind me! I'll be gone, don't worry! Just enjoy the party, please . . .!" she said, and before they could say anything she had turned and moved somewhere else.

"Whew, close call!" said George.

Harry stared at the back of Mrs. Weasley talking animatedly to Lupin and Tonks. Whatever she said to the couple, it made Lupin shift uncomfortably and Tonks smile.

"She will go mental . . ." Harry muttered, half–smiling.

"Yes, she will," Ginny joined Harry's worries. "Luckily, she will end up accepting it. I hope."

"Oh, you don't worry about her," Fred waved a hand. "You'll be gone tonight, we assume? Ginny told us of your planned escape."

"Well, yes, but—"

"It's settled, then!" George interrupted. "Tomorrow we will tell everybody of what actually happened here."

"Look at it as out wedding present . . . _Mr. and Mrs. Potter_," Fred winked at them as they shyly blushed.

"You sure you can do that? Their reaction will be—"

"Will be a Once–In–A–Lifetime thing, Harry," they grinned. "And we've never missed out on a Once–In–A–Lifetime thing before."

"And if you excuse us," said Fred, noticing Madame Maxime bringing a huge wedding cake (though it seemed a bit small, compared to the carrier) and placing it on an empty table, "I _think_ it's time we look for an escape route . . ."

". . . because Fleur and Bill and just about to get our pretty wedding present."

Harry and Ginny didn't know exactly which moment the Twins vanished from sight, but the resulting blur indicated they hadn't Disapparated. They saw Bill and Fleur being summoned to the slicing of the cake.

"What a cool party," said Ron, approaching Harry and Ginny and holding Hermione's hand. "Hey, I see you two fixed things up, didn't you?"

"We certainly did," Harry smiled. "How 'bout you two?"

Hermione blushed. "We're . . . good," she shyly said. "This is truly a night to be remembered."

"Oh, I have the odd feeling no one in their right mind will ever forget this," said Ginny, looking at the people gathered around the huge cake. Mrs. Weasley had given Fleur and Bill a large kitchen knife and the happy couple was holding it together, readying for the ceremonial slice. "No . . . They will _not_ forget this at all."

And Bill and Fleur stuck the knife in.

–**o–**

**I**t was only fair to say that Bill and Fleur's wedding party was a blast. True, everybody was caught by surprise and they were pretty angry at the beginning, but after a minute or two even Fleur couldn't help but laugh at her cream-soaked wedding dress.

It looked as if a sudden snowfall had hit the backyard.

Mrs. Weasley went mad and began to hunt down the most likely suspects. They proved to be very quick and sly, for Mrs. Weasley's _Petrificus Totalis_ jinxes just ricocheted off them. Surely Fred and George were wearing their own protective merchandize. Only when everybody else was laughing, and noticing Fleur's dress as the mess it had turned into, she also joined the joy.

The party ended close to midnight. The Twins brought the original cake from its hiding place and were forgiven by everybody. The guests began to depart in the same groups they had arrived. The Portkeys had been waiting to carry on their objective.

The Delacours thanked the Weasleys for the hospitality, blessed their daughter and Bill, and also departed to their own home back in France. The Carry–Able Cabin they had lived in was folded back into a briefcase and stored in the Burrow.

Bill and Fleur then departed for their Honeymoon. Madame Maxime, deeply fond of her best student and Triwizard Champion, loaned Fleur her flying chariot for the trip. Mad–Eye Moody was requested to fly along with the chariot and protect the newlyweds from any danger.

As the chariot became a freckle in the star–spiked night, the eyes of all the remaining guests fixed on the now headpin–sized vehicle, and then it was gone. Bill was gone, as Mrs. Weasley wept about; a sad, longing cry of those mothers who truly care for their children, no matter how old and responsible they had turned.

And during all that time, growing less and less worried of what people would think, Harry and Ginny stayed together, one arm around the other's back. Once the chariot was part of their memories, once Mrs. Weasley had ordered them all to go to bed, once they separated as they arrived to Ginny's bedroom, they exchanged silent stares full of secrets. Only Fred and George would know what they were up to.

Harry couldn't sleep that night, but this time he meant to. He had to remain awake, waiting. The Burrow had become so quiet every single noise was amplified several times. Everybody had worked hard on the previous day, what with the wedding preparations and such, and so now they all were sleeping heavily. It was perfect for his plans.

He was also tired, but an inner fire kept his resolutions burning stronger. The moment was closer and closer in every new second. Harry began to realize he was now a married man. A _married_ man. Ginny was his _wife_. Harry and Ginny were _bonded_ together. She now shared his last name.

A shiver went up his spine. It was a shocking realization. But a good shocking realization. He only wished it could have been public, not private . . . Ron would have killed to be Harry's Best Man, and now he would kill Harry instead.

Harry laughed at his thoughts. He couldn't help it.

But still, he was worried about Ginny. Guilt was kicking him in his conscience and tried to warn him about the extreme danger in what could happen from now on. Sure, the letter had been already written; and he'd write it over and over if he'd have to.

But what about Ginny?

His guilt entered through his mind's back door and made him feel horrible. He was going to risk his wife's life in this last adventure! No, he couldn't do that. He couldn't risk Ginny.

_He couldn't . . ._

New thoughts were gathering, and fast. Harry had to deal with all of them.

–**o–**

**T**he main door of the Burrow gently creaked as it opened. Harry peeked outside. No one in sight. But not for too long, he knew.

He stood at the doorframe with the door open, looking back at the kitchen inside. Moments later he closed the door and, slowly, began to advance around the house toward the chicken coop.

"Halt!" cried someone.

"_Shhhh!_" Harry shushed, startled. "Tonks, it's me!" he whispered in a hurry.

Tonks didn't lower her wand. "Oh, yes? What's your best friend's favorite Quidditch team?" she said.

"The Chudley Cannons, but really, Tonks, anybody could have known that just by peeking inside Ron's bedroom in the middle of the night," Harry muttered.

"Then tell me something only Harry would know," she said.

"Your Patronus is a certain someone you like," Harry grinned.

So did Tonks. She lowered her wand. "Just what are you doing out at this time of the night — Oh, I see . . ." she realized.

"What's that? Who's there? Harry?" whispered Lupin, coming from behind. Tonks made him stop.

"Be quiet, nobody must know he's awake. Harry's leaving tonight for Dumbledore's request, don't you remember?"

Lupin thought for a bit, but then half–smiled. "Creeping out in the middle of the night . . . I'll make sure to be away when Molly finds out."

Harry gave a bitter smile. "Not my best thought, I grant you."

"You have everything for it?" Lupin said. "Buckbeak won't be able to carry your trunk."

"No need. I have some clothes in this backpack . . . and in these two briefcases."

"What are those?" asked Tonks, staring at the contents of the briefcase Harry had opened.

"Fred and George's latest discoveries in Defense. Don't worry . . ."

They guided Harry along the rest of the path until the chicken coop came into view. Buckbeak the hippogriff was sleeping next to it. It seemed that the chicken had taken him to be an overgrown rooster. As he sensed people approaching, Buckbeak's orange eyes snapped open and glowed in the dark.

"Good night, Buckbeak," greeted Harry. He stared deeply into the orange orbs and bowed ceremoniously. Moments later, Buckbeak returned the bow. "We'll be gone tonight, Buckbeak. You think you can reach Godric's Hollow?"

Buckbeak, as if he had understood every word, gave a gentle hawking.

Harry and Buckbeak walked away from the Burrow, escorted by both Lupin and Tonks. Once they were a few good distance from the building, they stopped.

"So, well . . . I guess that's all . . ." Harry muttered.

"Godric's Hollow is north of here," pointed Lupin. "It'd be better if you avoid flying during daylight. Unlike the Ministry, we don't really mind if Muggles spot you, but we'll be really sorry if a Death Eater does."

"Got it."

Tonks gave Harry a hug and a pat on the back. "Way to go, Harry. You'll have news from us, and information too, whenever you need it. You can use your Patronus to send messages to us. It's not difficult, and very reliable. Patroni are true only to their masters' order, so they will never turn their back on you."

"Thanks," smiles Harry.

Remus hugged him next. It was a longer and warmer hug.

"James would've been proud. So would Sirius. So would Dumbledore. Not to mention Lily. No matter what happens now, Harry, always remember they will be proud."

"I will," said Harry, his eyes shining.

"We'll be going," said Tonks. "We're supposed to watch over the Burrow. Good–bye, Harry. Until our paths cross again."

Harry waved as Lupin and Tonks walked back to the Burrow, leaving him alone with Buckbeak and with his mission. Once Lupin and Tonks were out of sight, however, someone else spoke.

"_So_ glad Moody went with Fleur and Bill. He would have noticed me," said Ginny, and removed Harry's Invisible Cloak from herself.

"Sure would have," Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the Burrow. When he turned to see her, Ginny was just pushing her hair from her face. "Brought it with you?"

"I have it right here," she half–smiled.

She also had a backpack with her, full of clothing and such, but in her hands she was holding a large briefcase.

"I have never stole a house, before," she now grinned. It was so Fred–And–George of her that Harry had to smile back.

"Haven't stolen anything," he retorted. "I left a bag full of Galleons, probably more than the Carry–Able Cabin's value. But we'll need it more, won't we?"

"Oh, surely we will," nodded Ginny. "Our little and lovely home sweet home."

Harry stared back at the Burrow. "You know . . . the moment we got Bonded . . . I believe we got our possessions shared." He turned his head and grinned at her. "Seems you are a wealthy girl, now."

Ginny smiled. "I've always been rich, Harry. I had _you_." The smile changed to a grin as she half-teased him, "_My Chosen One._"

Harry would have loved to laugh, but that would have surely brought trouble at that moment. He turned his eyes to the Burrow once more.

"I have written a Last Will," he said, now serious. "Just in case . . . you know. If something happens to me, then at least I want my belongings passed to good hands. Who better than your parents?"

Harry felt Ginny's hands surrounding him and her head being leaned on him. He sighed.

"You are such a noble gentleman . . ." she whispered.

They remained like that for a moment or two, when Harry turned and hugged her in return. They also kissed, and by the end of their kiss he stared fixedly at her eyes.

"It's time to go," he said. Ginny, her eyes shining, nodded.

Ginny turned to face Buckbeak, and while she stared deep into the orange orbs, Harry said:

"Now, Buckbeak, this is Ginny. Ginny _Potter_," he added, unable to help himself. "My _wife_. I trust her deeply, and I hope you trust her as well."

Ginny bowed deeply, and seconds later Buckbeak bowed in response.

"Very well, then," Harry said. "Here, let me help you up . . ."

Harry helped Ginny onto Buckbeak's back. He was about to climb in front of her, when something very odd and very painful stabbed him straight through his soul.

He looked back . . .

. . . back into the night . . .

. . . onto the dark shape of the Burrow.

It had been much more than a house for him. He recalled the first time he visited the Burrow, rescued from the Dursleys by Ron, Fred, George and a flying car. From that moment on, he and the Burrow were one. And now he was leaving it behind. Considering his mission, he wondered if he'd ever return. If that wasn't the case, then he was staring at the Burrow for the last time ever.

Ginny's hand was placed on his. Harry turned and saw her eyes.

"Let's go," she softly whispered. Harry understood she was having similar thoughts.

Harry climbed onto Buckbeak, right in front of Ginny. She slid closer and wrapped her arms around her beloved husband, leaning her body on his back. Harry felt a warm feeling within, and he suddenly felt more confident and fully capable of doing anything at all.

"Come now, Buckbeak," Harry whispered to the hippogriff's ear. "Up to the sky and beyond."

Buckbeak reared as his wings spread widely, then began to gallop across the fields, flapping his wings and eventually taking off, floating in the darkness and gaining height and speed.

Harry made Buckbeak turn and head north. Ginny gripped Harry's body harder, and he couldn't contain his happiness.

Down on the ground, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks saw the dark silhouette of a hippogriff above the Burrow. They couldn't distinguish Harry, and they certainly hadn't guessed Ginny was with him, but they felt Harry's laugher of intense happiness had reasons other that the real ones.

The truth was that Harry felt happy. With his mission. With the faces everybody would surely adopt the next morning. With the menace of Death Eaters at every turn. With it all. He had Ginny with him. That was all he really needed.

Harry Potter was free for real, for the first time in seventeen long years. And he resolved to fight to the death to keep that right as his. Even against death itself.

_Watch out, Voldemort_ – Harry thought – _here I come . . ._

–**o–  
The End**  
–**o–**


End file.
